Of Ravens and Shadows
by Fan-of-Insert-Sues
Summary: Helen believed she was mad. That was what everyone called her. Mad Helen... She dreamed of ravens and shadows, lost reflections, and hair that burned like fire. Was she mad? Perhaps. Or maybe she was simply broken, like all of the others in that asylum...
1. Chapter 1

Title: **Of Ravens and Shadows**  
>Category: Movies » Alice in Wonderland, 2010<br>Author: Fan-of-Insert-Sues  
>Language: English, Rating: Rated: T<br>Genre: Mystery/Romance  
>Originally Published: 03-07-10<br>Chapters: 13, Words: 45,245

(A/n) Another oldie but goodie, I had this one floating around with my other account. I figured I would post it again as well and pick up where I left off. People seemed to like this one too. Also, Mary Sue alert. If you couldn't tell by my author name then here is the warning. I go where my plot bunnies whisk me. They are few and far between.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Chapter 1<strong>

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><p>"How..."<p>

The inkwell had knocked over, the black ink spilling onto the white paper that bore a simple question.

_How is a raven..._

The rest of the question was blocked, the paper quickly soaking up the ink that had spilled. A hand darted out to grab the inkwell, a small hand that was covered by stained, white gloves. The gloves ended to about mid arm, failing to conceal the olive skin that was marred with burns. The puckered skin seemed to reflect the dull light of the lamp that rested on the desk. The gloved hands were twitching as they folded the paper very neatly, the ink becoming soaked by the already blackened tips of the fabric.

The paper neatly folded, a gloved hand reached down to pull out a drawer and dropped the paper inside, falling gently upon a growing pile of similarly folded, black splotched pieces of paper. The drawer was closed with a snap and the hand lightly twitched as the sound of screaming pierced the very thin walls of the room.

"How, now..." The voice that spoke was soft in its tone and yet it cracked, as if it was hardly used. "Nevar more.. Nevar more..." A gloved hand reached up to brush along an olive toned cheek, the fingertips leaving a black stain along the puckered skin. The right cheek was burned as badly as the arms, leaving one wondering how such scars had come to pass. "How does the raven see the shadow that lies beyond the tree?" Dark eyes glanced at the solitary window that was covered with bars, a single branch scratching against the metal and glass. "How, now..."

The gloved hands disappeared into a tangled mane of curly, dark hair, a broken hum escaped lips that pursed and thinned, pursed and thinned, the dark eyes rolling from the ceiling to the floor and back again. The screaming continued, echoing through the drywall and along the hall, the sign of madness. The young woman continued to hum the broken lullaby, not noticing that the screaming had stopped.

The door to her room opened and a nurse dressed in white entered, leaving behind a wheeled tray that bore various bottles and plastic cups. "Helen?"

The humming stopped and the dark eyes rolled toward the nurse, the lips continuing to move though silently. The nurse walked up to the young woman, bearing a cup with several pills and a cup of water. "Here Helen, open wide."

The young woman took both of the cups, her ink stained gloves smudging the white of them. She downed the pills and the water without complaint, opening her mouth to show the nurse that the pills had been properly swallowed.

The nurse took the cups and smiled at the young woman, a sad smile that seemed genuine. The woman had been living at this asylum for the better part of fourteen years. No one knew who she was, she was a young girl who had appeared on the grounds of the asylum, marred with terrible burns and raving about shadows and ravens and a man who stole her reflection. She was clearly mad and they had taken her in, knowing not what else to do.

She had no name, nothing in which to identify her. She wasn't like the other inmates, she seemed vaguely aware of what was going on around her but it was quickly lost when she began to mutter about ravens and shadows. The staff had given her the name Helen, a name that seemed to suit her. She answered well enough to it over the years.

As the pills began to kick in, the nurse helped Helen to bed, the terrible lolling of her head an indication that she would soon be gone. While the nurse settled the inmate into her bed, tucking the blankets around her still form, she looked around at the walls. They were completely covered by white pieces of paper, bearing drawings of ravens, some of them bearing splotches of ink that appeared to be shadows, and one in particular a sketch of a man with a wicked grin with jagged teeth. Was this the man who had harmed her? The nurse had wondered for years now but they did not know what happened to this poor woman or who she was. She spoke in nothing but riddles so they could not get a clear answer from her.

She was truly mad...

With a sigh of regret, the woman studied Helen with a sad look before turning on her heel and leaving the room altogether...


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Chapter 2**

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><p><em>Tap, tap, tap...<em>

An eye snapped open, a dark orb moving side to side before looking up, catching the sight of the barred window just above the writing desk.

_Tap, tap, tap..._

A raven was tap, tap, tapping against the glass, its glossy, dark feathers catching the light of the sun.

_Tap, tap, tap..._

The eye slowly closed, ignoring the sight of the raven. A slow breath inhaled, the olive skin looking clammy against the white of the bedsheets. The tangled mess of dark hair moved, the face emerging from beneath the sheets. The eyes opened and glanced up at the window, the raven was no where to be found.

"Helen?" The door to her room opened and the nurse in white entered, a kind smile on her face. "It's time to get up. It's a nice day today, do you think it would be nice to spend it with the others?"

Helen did not respond at first, she stared at the nurse as she took in a breath. The right side of her face was hidden behind her mane of tangled hair, hiding the marred flesh of her cheek. She glanced up at the window and then back at the nurse. "No shadows...?"

The nurse's smile did not waver as she gave a nod, "No shadows Helen. It's a very bright day today. Come now, let's get you ready and see the others. If you'd like we can even go outside today."

Helen sat up slowly, moving out of her bed with a grace that never failed to surprise the nurse. She always moved so gracefully, as if she were gliding rather than merely walking. When her bare feet touched the linoleum, she did not wince, she simply stood and moved toward her writing desk. She grabbed her pad and pencils and turned to look at the nurse, waiting. The nurse smiled as she walked into the room and grabbed the robe from the back of the only chair in the room. She placed it over Helen's slender shoulders and kept a firm arm around her waist. "There now, let's get you bathed and off to the cafeteria."

.oOo.

The lounge was a room for the inmates of the asylum, the quiet ones that were less likely to cause harm to themselves or others. Helen sat beside a window with her sketch pad open, her pencil gliding over the paper with ease. A beak could be seen coming to form, a single eye already shaped, it was another raven that she drew.

"How, now," she whispered, her gloved hand working earnestly as she brought the bird to life. There was such focus on her face, such intense concentration that seemed to confuse the doctors and nurses that watched her.

"Any progress this morning?" The doctor asked, reaching out to take the the chart from the nurse in white.

The nurse merely shook her head in response, her gaze never leaving from Helen's form. "No, she is still afraid of shadows and will go no where near a mirror." She looked at the doctor and sighed heavily. "There never seems to be any progress with Helen... I doubt there will be any change..."

"Well, she seems calm enough today." The doctor handed the chart back to the nurse and gave a nod. "Just watch her for the time being."

The nurse nodded in compliance as the doctor moved on to the rest of his patients. She placed the chart back in the pile and turned away, not noticing that Helen was staring across the room. There was shock on the patient's face, shock at seeing a solitary mirror hanging along the wall of the west side of the room. When had that been placed there? It was never there before...

Helen did not know that the mirror had been placed there a week prior as a way to make the lounge appear larger, brighter, more cheerful for the patients there. Unfortunately, they did not remember that one patient in particular was terribly afraid of mirrors...

Helen stared at the large reflective glass, catching the sight of where she should have been sitting beside the window. The window was there in that mirror, the chair was there, even the other patients and nurses could be seen. Helen, however, was no where to be found. Where her reflection should have been, there was nothing but an empty chair.

Helen got to her feet, her pad and pencil falling to the floor without a second glance. She walked toward the mirror, hoping that her reflection would appear somewhere along the pane of glass. There was nothing...

_Tap, tap, tap..._

A raven tapped against the glass, perched on the edge of the mirror. Helen stared at the bird and then looked around the room behind her. The bird was no where to be seen in the lounge or outside the windows...

_Tap, tap, tap..._

Helen glanced at the mirror once more, seeing the raven and yet not finding her own reflection. Confusion settling within her, she moved toward the mirror, her lips parting slightly.

"How, now," she said, her voice cracking as she reached out to grab a single wooden chair that rested beside a table. She pulled the chair along, the wood scraping along the linoleum as the raven continued to tap against the glass. She stopped in front of the mirror and slid the chair against the wall. The chair's reflection followed suit, moving on its own. "Shadow's call..." She took a step up onto the chair, her slippered feet making no sound as she held onto the back of the chair for support.

"Raven's wing," her voice cracked, her dark eyes staring at the raven as it continued _tap, tap, tapping_ against the glass of the mirror. "No shadows... please..."

She reached out toward the mirror, reached out toward the bird, and winced as the raven's tapping beak found its mark against her gloved hand. The glass seemed to not exist as the raven's beak drew blood from the palm of her hand. It tilted its head, a single dark eye watching her before it spread its wings and flew off into the mirror world.

Helen held out her bleeding palm, her dark eyes growing wide as she moved to follow after the bird. "Wait," she said, her voice breaking as she stepped over the edge of the mirror and through the glass. "How?" She winced as she felt the cold shock of the glass, feeling as if she were stepping through a sheet of ice water. "How, now... how is a raven..."

She looked around the mirrored version of the lounge, finding that the reflections of the patients and nurses were not to be found here. She stepped down from the chair and glanced around the empty room.

_Tap, tap, tap..._

Helen glanced at the around the room to find the raven tapping against the pane of an open window. It was waiting for her, waiting to lead her somewhere... She moved without hesitation, clenching her bleeding palm, ignoring the feel of the blood as it joined the stain of black ink of her once white glove. As she neared the window, the raven flew off into the bright sunshine of the world beyond. "Wait," she said in a cracking voice as she moved quickly toward the open window.

The lounge was on the first floor of the asylum, not so long of a drop to the grass below. She placed her hands on the wooden pane and hoisted herself through the window. She swung her legs over the edge gracefully until they are dangling the few feet above the grass. She pushed off of the pane, landing on the soft green grass below. On the familiar grounds of the asylum, there was the forest that bordered the grounds, separating the patients from the outside world. The sun was shining brightly and there were no dark shadows within that forest.

Feeling at ease, Helen took one step and then another. She caught sight of the raven resting on the branch of a tree, watching and waiting for her. The white gloves, stained with black ink, the left stained also with red blood, were held out before her as if trying to touch the air. The hem of her white robe trailed along the grass, her white pajama pants shifting with each step. Her mane of tangled hair swayed from the feel of the clean breeze that blew from the forest.

"How..." She kept her dark eyes on the raven, trusting it beyond the need to know why. "How, now..."

She did not look back at the asylum as she neared the forest, one step and then another... Her form disappeared into the forest, the sight of her white robe a stark contrast against gentle shadows that surrounded her...


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Chapter 3**

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><p>"<em>Twinkle, twinkle, little dream<em>

_How I wonder what you seam_

_Up above the world you soar_

_Like the raven, nevar more_

_Twinkle, twinkle, little dream_

_How I wonder what you seam..."_

She walked carefully along the the path, minding the large roots that jutted up along the leaf covered ground. She didn't know where the path led but she continued to sing the lullaby, her broken voice wavering over the higher notes. Her dark eyes searched the trees above, searching for the telltale sign of the raven who was showing her the way.

"Twinkle, twinkle..." She paused in mid-step, her eyes sweeping the branches and leaves of the forest that surrounded her. Her voice trailed off as she felt the first crippling of fear make its way up along her spine. She had lost the ebony bird along the path somewhere. Where could it have gone?

"Little dream... Nevar more..." She closed her eyes against the sight of the darkening shadows that were growing around the trees. Her heart began to race and the fear began to wrap itself around her heart in little tight coils. "No shadows... please..."

She felt a mist of cold air brush along the back of her neck and she squeezed her eyes, her gloved hands reaching out to brush the trunk of the nearest tree. "How, now... Where are you Raven? Keep the shadows away..."

"Oh, you'll find no shadows here my dear."

Helen opened her eyes and looked around, trying to catch the sight of the owner of the voice that spoke. She saw no one around the path or behind the trees. She looked up into the branches, searching until she noticed a pair of luminous, green cat eyes floating above a wide, sharp toothed grin. There was no body attached to the eyes and smile. Yet they remained floating there above the branch of the tree she leaned against.

The grin began to rotate above the eyes before the eyes followed suit, watching the young woman with interest. "Are you lost?" His voice, for it indeed sounded like a male, was deep and it bore a seductive tone to it as the eyes and the grin floated down around her, a swirl of silvery smoke appearing and revealing the face of cat, its fur a silvery gray with a streaking of aquamarine blue. His grin reached from ear to ear, the rest of his body appearing from silver smoke while his tail curled around to brush against the marred flesh of her cheek.

Helen's eyes searched the cat, as if trying to find any signs of the shadows she feared. When she found nothing, her dark eyes glanced up the pathway as she shook her head. "Lost? No... Helen... I'm Helen..." She frowned lightly as she looked at the cat. "Are you looking for Lost? I saw No One on the path... They might know where Lost has gone..."

The cat's smile grew at that, his tail twitching with delight as he floated around Helen. "Ah, I'll be sure to find them then..." He turned over and stretched, his sharp nails a little too close to her cheek. She did not flinch. "Are you looking for something? You seem to be searching in earnest."

Helen's breath caught as the cat's nails lightly pricked her marred cheek, a tiny sting issuing from the feel of the claws. "The Raven knows my reflection... It writes of a dream weaver and dances on the top of the mountains with the stars..."

The cat paused at this and turned right-side-up, his bright green eyes studying the woman Helen with keen curiosity. "The Raven? I have not seen a Raven come through here." He turned his gaze down to the woman's feet, where the lack of her shadow was quite prominent in even this dark wood. "Your reflection has not either." He looked at her, his grin growing wider. "I can take you to the Mad Hatter and the March Hare, they might know about your Raven. Do you know the way?"

"March Hare? Mad Hatter?" Helen studied the cat, her dark eyes flicking between his own. "Why? The Raven _is_ a like a writing desk... How is the question, not why..."

The cat chuckled at this as he floated away, the tip of his bushy tail brushing against her tangled mane of dark curls. "You'll might what to explain that to Tarrant, he has been pondering the answer to that for quite some time. Come on then, I'll show you the way."

"Thank you Chessur." Helen's voice was distant, her cracked tone wavering over the cat's name.

The cat paused at this and looked back at her, his curiosity peaking. "Have we met before?"

"The shadows are dancing... Nevar more," Helen replied in turn, pushing off the tree as she shook her head. "Watch the shadows... they are there..."

"Hm..." The cat's grin turned thoughtful as the woman brushed passed him, the sight of the burned flesh on her olive toned arms striking a cord with him. He said nothing more as he faded from sight and reappeared on the path ahead of her. "You said you are Helen?"

"I'm mad..." she said in a whisper, her gloved hands held out in front of her, feeling for the air. "Mad... That's what they say... Mad Helen..."

"Mad Helen?" The cat laughed appreciatively, floating along side her as he studied her. "Well, you couldn't have wandered into a better place. We're all mad here."

"Witzend... at the end of Witzend," she said, ignoring the cat as she walked up the path. "How, now..."

The cat laughed at this, all ready feeling a liking to the strange woman who had wandered into Tulgey Wood.

.oOo.

The wood thinned as the path led the woman and the cat to a clearing. The sky appeared to be on the edge of dusk though Helen was quite sure the sun had been shining when she had left the Mirrored Asylum. How long had she been walking through the forest? Had the hours turned backward or forward? She was not sure and she didn't think much of it as Chessur led her down the path. Ther clearing ahead bore a simple home with a windmill atop of it, the blades turning lazily in the passing wind. It looked as if it had been rebuilt, there was fresh paint and new wood that stood out against the old.

In front of the wind mill home, a long table was set. Perhaps maybe it might have been a series of tables, covered by one big table cloth. It was hard to tell from this vantage point. On top of the cloth, various sizes and colors of tea pots, cups, spoons, sugar dishes, and just about everything needed for a large tea party, rested. Some looked new, some looked dirty, some bore tea and some were empty. There were three figures seated at this table. One was a hare, a very frazzled hare that was staring at a spoon as if he had never seen such a one like it. A dormouse dressed in breeches, the color of the breeches appearing to be a faded pink. Was the dormouse a lady? A lady mouse in breeches, how quaint...

As Helen neared the long table (or tables as it were), the cat floating behind her with an expectant grin on his face, her dark eyes fell on the first human she had seen since she had started her adventure through the mirror. A man sat at the head of the table, a large tattered top hat sitting on top of a mop of shockingly orange hair that stuck out at odd angles. Bushy, orange eye brows rested above a pair of lime green eyes, one pupil appearing larger than the other. His chalky, pale skin was smooth and completely free of any scars or blemishes. His clothes were an odd assortment of styles that seemed to come from every era of English fashion imaginable, combining into an outfit that spoke of madness. There was a sizzling energy that seemed to spark from his very being. Helen felt an instant and maddening awe at the sight of this Hatter and she sighed, feeling as much as ease as she had when she first followed raven. "How, now..."

At the sound of her voice, the tea party came to a sudden halt. The sound of music, old time music that might have been from the 1920's, scratched to a sudden silence. Helen had not noticed the music and she looked around, wondering where it might have come from. She spotted an old time record player some distance from the table. Had it been charmed to stop playing? Was it alive? Helen wondered these things and couldn't keep the smile from appearing at these thoughts.

The Mad Hatter's eyes narrowed as he studied the newcomer, the sight of Chessur floating beside her a most unusual one, even in this place. "And what, pray tell, has the cat dragged in this time?" His voice was soft, a gentle hint of a lisp could be heard though it did not detract from the magnetic and maddening gaze of his eyes. His teeth were yellowed, a slight gap between his two front teeth revealing the cause of his lisp.

Chessur laughed, flipping around as he decided to curl his bushy tail around the woman's neck. The tip brushed against the puckered flesh of her right cheek, brushing away the dark tangles to reveal that the marred flesh reached all the away up the right side of her face. The corner of her right eye was pulled slightly, the marred flesh stopping just short of her scalp. "I've done no such dragging. As you can plainly see, she is standing of her own accord."

"A cord... a string..." Helen said, pulling on the hem of her white robe, now covered in dirt with bits of leaves clinging to the fabric. Her stained white gloves clung to the hem lightly, her dark eyes searching her slippered feet. "'Weave a dream,' the Raven cries, 'Weave a dream, the seams do need a cord, a string..." She paused at this and stared at the March Hare. "Have you tea for my aching feet? It's been such a long walk and I must heat them."

"Tea?" The Hare looked up at the woman and, without warning, flung an empty tea cup straight at her head. The Cheshire Cat faded from view at the sight of the cup, leaving dear Helen to fend for herself.

Helen smiled and ducked, the tea cup flying over her head and disappearing into the brush behind her. She straightened and sighed, looking suddenly happier. "Thank you, my feet feel so much better..." She blinked and stared at the Hatter. "Have you any sugar? Must scrub my hands you know, can never do to come to a party and not scrub one's own hands."

The Dormouse stared at the woman, her tail twitching lightly as she studied her. "She's raving mad, she is."

Chessur laughed, a delicious sound that escaped past a wide, grin that floated beside Helen's head. "She is a Mad Helen... searching for a Raven..." His chuckle was dark as he reappeared, his tail once more curling around her neck. "She is mad for her Raven..." Chessur toyed with the woman's tangled hair, a claw curling round and round a single lock. His large, green eyes turned to the Mad Hatter and his grin grew wider. "Have you seen one come through here Tarrant? Any sign at all?"

"I saw a spoon," said the March Hare, his ear twitching as he poured himself some tea. "A spoon that ran away to find a desk."

The Mad Hatter stared at the strange woman, taking in the sight of her white robe, her white pajama pants and shirt. He took in the sight of the gloves stained with black ink that covered the burned flesh of her arms. She was swaying from side to side, humming a lullaby that sounded similar to _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat._

He stood up from his chair and climbed on top of the table. He walked the length of the series of tables, stepping on dishes and cups, kicking aside tea trays and pots, much to the outrage of the Hare and the Mouse. He ignored them and continued to walk, the hems of his pants much too high and revealing mismatched socks, one blue and one red. His shoes landed on two tea cups, breaking them to several pieces. He didn't appear to notice or care as he stepped down on the chair that rested at the end of the long series of tables and continued to walk until he stood in front of the woman.

She paused in her humming, having noticed the Hatter staring at her with intense green eyes. He was taller that her, made even more so with the hat, but she didn't say anything in response to him. They stared at one another for a moment and then the Hatter leaned forward, his bushy, orange eye brows coming together. "Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?"

Helen blinked, silent for a moment before she smiled and sighed. "Dark quills," she said, her smile fading slightly. "Nevar more..."

The frown on the Hatter's face eased somewhat, caught slightly off guard by the answer.

"She's nearly as mad as Thackery," said the Dormouse, her eyes turning to look at the March Hare, who was staring into his cup with a glazed look in his eyes.

The Hatter said nothing, his gaze moving from Helen to the cat, who was still floating beside her with a large grin on his face. His electric eyes turned back to the woman and he smiled, a maddening smile that would have scared a normal person straight from the clearing. "Have a chair."

"There's no room," said the Dormouse as she stared daggers at the strange woman.

"No room," said Helen in agreement and gave a single nod. "Dirty cups and no time to wash."

"We're late for tea!" The Hare cried, his ragged long ears perking up as he hopped up and moved to a new place at the table. "Move down! Move down! _Move down!"_

Places were moved and the Hatter took Helen by the hand, pulling her over to an empty chair that bore a clean cup. "Sit and have some tea." He offered her the chair and she sat down without complaint, a dreamy smile on her lips. She was happy, there were no shadows here...

"Does she know Alice?" The Hare asked, pouring himself some tea, not noticing that the cup had a gaping hole on the bottom of it and was now spilling across the table.

Helen blinked and straightened her shoulders, her gloved hands reaching out to brush the stained table cloth. "_Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe. All mimsy were the borogoves and the mome raths outgrabe_..." She sang this in a broken voice. The tune would have been a dancing melody, rather cheerful, if she did not sound so haunted and her eyes were not wide and distant. The tune was strange and yet terribly familiar, though the Hatter could not place where he had heard the tune from. She closed her eyes and shook her head, "Nevar more... Little Dream... Up above and down below, never sideways but to and fro."

Chessur appeared beside Helen, his grin ever present and growing by the moment. "I like this one, Tarrant. She reminds me of someone I had known... Or will know..." He trailed off and yawned, floating down to sit in the empty chair next to her. "She knows No One you know, passed them on the path in Tulgey Wood. It seems someone had taken her reflection."

The Hatter said nothing, he was studying the woman with interest and a thoughtful look had appeared on his pale face. There was something going on here with this Mad Helen, something that seemed to be of great importance. He noticed that when she held out her gloved hand to grab a cup of tea, the light that lingered from the frozen, setting sun had shown down over her arm. There was no shadow cast upon the table...

"How, now... No shadows please..." Helen looked at the Hatter and a sad look swept across her features, the first sign of clarity appearing in her dark eyes since she had arrived. "He stole my reflection..."

"He?" The Hatter repeated but the look was gone as quickly as it had come, the dreamy smile sliding across her lips as she lightly sipped her tea.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

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><p>"<em>Tick, tock, goes the clock<em>

_Round and Round the sun dial_

_Snicker- Snack, there's a crack_

_Time falls dead upon his back…"_

Helen was singing to herself again, a new little rhyme that sent a chill up along the Hatter's back. She was mad, there was no doubt about that. However, it was a madness that seemed unnatural for one such as her. She had come from Alice's world, a world that the Hatter himself had never seen. Yet she was nothing like his old friend. One would have thought that she would have had the same train of the thought as Alice if she had come from the same world. Contrary wise, she was the exact opposite of Alice in such a way of thinking.

"Do we have any bread?" The Dormouse asked, moving across the table as she searched for a clean spoon.

"I know how to make a loaf," said Helen, reaching up to place her gloved hands within her tangled mane of curls. "You'll need flower, plucked from a hedge. You'll want to be sure that the hedge is on a proper sized acre of land, it can't be from any sized ground."

"What if the flower is in a garden?" The Hare asked, his beady eyes watching Helen with keen interest.

"Well, if it is in a garden, be sure that the bed is hard, they'll be awake then. You don't want to pick them when their bed is soft, they'll be asleep. It wakes them up and they give you such a nasty talking to."

The Dormouse giggled at this, grabbing a spoon that was just the right size for her hand and scampering back to her chair. "Did you pluck one when they were asleep?"

The look on the woman's face was priceless, her olive skin taking on a less than pleasant hue. "Such a ruckus she had made! I had to put her back lest my ears would fall off…" She trailed off and turned her dark eyes to the Hatter. "Inkwells make lovely little flower pots. The Raven always said to keep one empty should a flower wish to live in your home…"

It had been going on this way for sometime now, time being a funny thing here in Underland. The longer she sat there at the table, the more she spoke. Though much of what she said would have made little sense to those from the world she had left behind. The Hatter had been sipping his tea, watching the strange woman as she spoke of ravens and shadows just before pausing and staring off into the distance. She would sit there for awhile before she would start singing rhymes. At first it was the lullaby that sounded like _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat_ but now it was a rhyme about clocks and time.

She started to sing it now, since he had not responded to her comment about the Raven and inkwells. Occasionally, her gloved hands would twitch before reaching out to brush the table cloth, as if hoping to find something. The Hatter noticed each time she moved, there was no shadow to be seen, despite the light that was cast upon her from the setting sun. She was growing agitated as she continued to sing the rhyme, her hands moving about the table and then over the air around her, as if searching.

"She has no shadow you know." Chessur was floating above her head, his large green eyes watching the Hatter. "That is interesting, don't you think?"

"No shadows please," said Helen in a whisper, a gloved hand reaching up to brush against her marred cheek. Once more, that look of clarity appeared in her dark eyes, her gaze moving up to stare at the cat. "He stole my reflection…" She looked to the woods, the clarity disappearing back into the madness from which it came. Her gaze was searching the shadows that grew darker just beyond the trees. A moment passed before she got up from her chair and started to walk in the opposite direction from the wood which she had come. "'How, now,' the Raven cries, flying through the trees toward the shadowed plain. 'Nevar more, the shadows play.'"

The Hatter stared at the retreating back of the woman, her tangled, dark mane of curls swaying with every step she took. A thoughtful look settled on his chalky features, his electric green gaze following her as she disappeared into the wood the lay on the other side of the clearing.

"Are you just going to sit there Tarrant?"

The Hatter glanced up to find the Cheshire cat floating around him, his trademark grin growing wider as he saw the look of confusion on the man's face. He tucked a paw just against a furred cheek as he stared at the claws of his other, turning them this way and that. "I don't recall there being anything said about a Mad Helen walking about Tulgey Wood this day."

The Hatter stared at the cat for heartbeat, recalling what day it was and knowing what Chessur spoke was the truth. The Oraculum had foretold of each and every major event that was to happen each day since the Beginning of Underland. There had been no foretelling of a mad woman wandering about Tulgey Wood, either before or after, especially not this day. Rising quickly to his feet, he managed to duck a tea tray that the Hare had flung his way, holding carefully onto his tattered top hat.

He moved with purpose, his orange hair moving stiffly against the rising breeze, though his hat remained firmly on his head. He was aware that Chessur was following behind him for a moment before the cat disappeared. Chessur reappeared ahead of him on the path, floating on to catch sight of a white robe hanging on the branch of a tree resting off the pathway. The Hatter continued to walk, keeping Chessur in his sights as the cat disappeared around the tree.

He stopped beside the white robe, staring at it thoughtfully before he heard laughter. He looked around the tree and caught sight of Helen sitting on the ground. With the robe discarded, one could see the extent of her burned flesh, her white shirt being near sleeveless. Her gloved hands were holding onto a little wooden horse, its tiny wings buzzing gently as it rocked from one hand to another. Chessur was floating beside her, grinning at the Hatter as the man made his way around the tree.

Helen glanced up at the Hatter, her smile a sight he had not been expecting to see. "A Rocking- Horse Fly… Have you any sap? I would like to feed it."

The Hatter did not respond, he moved closer and sat down on the ground beside her, reaching into the pocket of his coat. He pulled out a pinch of sawdust and reached out to take her gloved hand. He turned her hand up and let the sawdust fall upon her palm. The Rocking-Horse Fly let out a buzzing neigh as it swung itself to her palm and began to eat. They watched the insect in silence for awhile before it ate its full and swung itself away onto the nearest branch, its little wings buzzing all the while.

Helen watched the insect disappear behind a leaf before turning her eyes toward the Hatter. "How does the raven see the shadow that lies beyond the tree?"

The Hatter frowned in response, pondering the answer to the question. It took him a moment before the answer came to him and he looked at her, a smile appearing on his pale face. "With a candle, of course."

Helen's smile faded from sight, a haunting look appearing in her dark eyes. "Candle… How, now…" She covered her face with her hands and shook her head. "Pass the eighth square and you shall find a feast fit for a queen." She dropped her hands and stared at them, taking in the sight of the black ink and blood that stained her gloves. "The Queen of Spring shall rule Underland on that glorious Frabjous Day... The Outland has not and will not see Spring, only Winter, so they say…"

"The Outland?" Chessur floated closer to the woman, his large green eyes studying her as his tail began to twitch on agitation. "What of the Outland?"

"How, now… No shadows please…" said Helen in a whisper, bringing her hands closer to her marred cheek as she stared off into the distance. "How, now… Little dream… The end of Witzend… The Raven writes of a dream weaver… Kaloo Kalay… An oyster for your jam…" She closed her eyes and began to hum the lullaby from before, her hands twitching every so often.

The Hatter had been quiet then entire time she had spoken, the rhymes and riddles that eased so freely from her lips was the only true clues as to why she was here. A light frown tugged on the corners of his lips as he studied the ground about the woman's feet. Where Chessur floated beside her, his shadow seen so easily upon the grass, there was no shadow beneath her twitching form. Even in Underland, that was not a common sight and it surely was not a good thing.

"This could mean something Tarrant." Chessur's grin had faded slightly, his luminous eyes studying his old acquaintance. "Something has happened, is happening, or will happen and there is no word of it in the Oraculum."

"How could that be?" The Hatter asked in turn, his frown growing deep as he studied the Mad Helen, who had begun rocking herself back and forth. "The Oraculum tells of each event of each day in Underland."

"Yes, in Underland. Not the Outland."

A look of understanding swept across that pale face and he looked at Helen, seeing her a little more clearly now. "She came from the Room of Doors, did she not?" He turned those electric green eyes toward then cat, hoping that it would be a positive answer.

Chessur merely grinned and shrugged in response. "Perhaps we should find that Raven she is searching for."

"If it can be found, would it know where she came from?"

"Mirror, Mirror, don't you cry, I shall sing a lullaby…" Helen had broken through their conversation with another one of her rhymes. She moved and rested her head against the Hatter's shoulder, her hands clasped upon her knees. She began to twiddle her thumbs, staring intently at the sight of Hatter's mismatched socks. "Red and Blue are just for you but words are ever nimble…"

He seemed taken by surprise at first but he relaxed slightly, trying not to laugh at the feel of her tangled curls tickling him under his neck. "Do you speak the truth Mad Helen?"

"Always try," said Helen in reply, her thumbs continuing to twiddle away. "I think of it before speaking and write it down afterward." She paused at this and raised her head to look at the Hatter. "Have you a codfish I could borrow? I need to write before they run away."

The Hatter smiled in reply and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I left it a home. I would forget my head were it not so firmly attached to my neck."

"I cannot say the same for myself," said Chessur, a wicked grin playing on his furry face as his head floated around them. "I do think we should be getting along Tarrant. The White Queen might want to have a word with this one."

"Yes, of course Chess." The Hatter got to his feet and reached a hand down to help Helen. She reached up to grab his hand and pulled herself up in a graceful manner. She was staring off into the shadows that lurked behind the trees, watching for something that she seemed to be afraid of.

"No shadows please…" Her hand twitched in Hatter's and she looked up at him, her dark eyes pleading. "How is a raven like a writing desk?"

"How?" The Hatter stared at her, that question was one that had never crossed his mind. It had always been why. "I haven't the slightest idea…"

"We could do a few sums, if you like." Helen smiled as the Hatter released her hand and she moved to grab her robe from the branch. "That might help to find the bread the Dormouse was looking for."

The Hatter laughed at that, a dizzying sound that made the mad woman giggle as if she were being tickled. He was still laughing as he walked back onto the path that led to Marmoreal while Helen followed after him. She was feeling very safe and very at ease; the shadows would never get her with Hatter here.

Chessur floated behind the woman, studying her with a thoughtful grin as he watched her begin to do a few skipping steps behind the Hatter, a sort of dancing walk that seemed to strike a cord in his memory. Where had he seen such a dancing walk before? Curious…


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

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><p><em>"I love my love with an H because he is happy."<em>

She had begun again on one of her many rhymes and riddles, her cracking voice sounding horrible when she had decided to sing in high notes. The entire journey to Marmoreal had been filled with endless rhymes, riddles and broken singing from the one named Helen. She followed behind the Hatter, moving in that skipping walk that made the Cheshire cat feel somewhat dizzy just from watching.

_"I hate him with an H because he is hideous."_ She began to dance around the Hatter then, her white robe flying around her while she held her hands up in a delicate manner. Had the Hatter not been convinced that she was as utterly as mad as he, he would have thought she was doing a perfect imitation of the White Queen's gliding walk.

_"I feed my love ham sandwiches and hay. He lives on a hill and his name is…"_ She paused at this, as if trying to remember the name but of course the name escaped her. "His name is-."

"You do enjoy the letter H, don't you Mad Helen?" Chessur broke in on her singing, his grin growing wider as he watched her continuing in her gliding dance around the Hatter.

Her dark eyes searched for him and found him floating up above her head. She craned her neck back, her wild, dark curls falling away from her face to reveal the burned flesh of right cheek. She smiled at the cat and held her arms out to him, as if beckoning him into her embrace. "I love my love with an H..." Her voice had gone husky and seductive, the cracking soprano replaced by something more intimate. For once, the cat himself was caught off guard, this sudden and maddening change in her voice sending a prickling of déjà vu through his fur.

The Hatter's dizzying laugh broke through the awkward silence as he watched Helen dance ahead of him as if nothing had happened. She was holding onto the hem of her robe, humming to herself as she swung her arms this way and that. She was different, so very different. Different was, at the moment, terribly funny. Had the Hatter ever seen his old friend caught off guard? Perhaps, maybe once, a very long time ago. He was not sure of when it had been or how, but he was sure that it had happened.

"That woman has been here before." Chessur floated closer to the Hatter as he dropped his voice, his grin not quite as big as it had been before. "I feel like I should know her..."

"Perhaps her madness is affecting you Chess?" The Hatter continued to laugh at his friend as they followed Helen along the main road that led to the White Queen's castle. "She does have a quality of madness that puts even Thackery's to shame." He turned his electric green gaze to the woman, studying her thoughtfully as she had resumed her skipping dance from before. It was odd, she seemed happier than she had been when she had first arrived at the tea party. She had been so agitated in her quest to find whatever she had lost, perhaps the Raven she always spoke of.

Since they had begun their journey to see the White Queen however, she had not mentioned the Raven in any of her rhymes or riddles. Watching her in her skipping dance, he had to envy that sweet innocence that she gave off at the moment. As if there was nothing or no one that could possibly harm her...

She stopped, turned around to look at the Hatter, and smiled. The Hatter stopped in surprise, not expecting the sudden about face. He had almost tripped over her but had caught himself on time and was now staring down at her. A heartbeat passed, a single moment in which he was suddenly aware that she had a surprisingly large smile.

"Would you run with me Hatter? Far beyond the hills?"

The question caught him off guard. For one, it was the first time she had addressed him directly by his trade name. Secondly, it was the third time since meeting her that the look of clarity appeared in those intriguing dark orbs. Was she as truly mad as she let on? He was about to open his mouth to speak when the smile disappeared from her face. She looked past his shoulder, seeing something that he couldn't see. It took but a moment for her to turn her back to him and stare up at the branches of the trees that lined the road. "Nevar more?"

She was lost again within that madness of hers and the Hatter felt a tiny twinge of disappointment. What had happened to her? She walked away from him, her eyes on a particular tree further up the road. "How now... Nevar more..." Her hands were clenched at her sides as she stopped walking and looked up in the branches. "Raven, come to me… Keep the Shadows away…"

_Tap, tap, tap…_

At first, the Hatter thought he was hearing things but he noticed that Chessur's ears had perked up at the sound and his feline head had turned toward the tree that Helen was staring so intently at. "Well, it seems that Mad Helen may not be as mad as we thought."

The Hatter, at first confused by this statement, followed the cat's gaze toward a low hanging branch that Helen was now walking towards. Perched on the branch, it's glossy, dark feathers catching in the light from the setting sun, a raven stared at the woman with an intense gaze. Its feathers ruffled and it turned its beak down to the branch. It began tapping against the wood, a sound that seemed to affect dear Helen in a way that the Hatter had not been expecting.

"How now… Nevar more…" She held out her left hand, the palm of the glove stained a dark crimson. Her hand had been injured, how had he not noticed? Perhaps it was because of the black ink that stained the fingers of her gloves. It had blended well enough with the blood in the frozen dusk of that clearing.

"Little dream… soar away…" She continued in her walk toward the tree, her hand held out higher toward the raven. The raven had ceased in its tapping and turned around to look at Helen. This time however, there was something in its beak: a small, round object the color of a midnight sky. It leaned forward and dropped the object in Helen's waiting hand.

Chessur, who had been watching the entire scene with curiosity, straightened from his relaxed position floating behind the Hatter. His luminous, green eyes had caught sight of the object in Helen's hand and his ears perked up as his grin faded completely. "No, wait! Don't-."

Helen did not hear the cat's protests and had slipped the object into her mouth, swallowing it dry. All of this had happened in such a short span of time that the Hatter hardly had enough time to react. One moment, Helen was standing there, smiling up at the raven and the next she was falling over to one side in a dead faint. He just barely caught her before falling down with her, faintly surprised at how heavy she was. He glanced down at her, noting the lack of response in her usually animated face. Her jaw had slackened, her mane of dark, curly tangles spilling over his left arm.

"Helen…?" He reached out and gently slapped her cheek, her left cheek that was smooth and unblemished. His bandaged fingers brushed against her cheek, the feel of the cold skin shocking him to the core. The feel of that cold skin was not something he wanted to feel, not again. A feeling of dread touched him and a shadow fell across his face, his green eyes changing slightly to a reddish hue. "What did she swallow?" he asked, his usually soft and well spoken voice now replaced by a hoarser growl. The sudden shift in his accent spoke measures to the change in his mood, a more primal shift in his temper that normally would have scared even Chessur.

The cat had been at the receiving end of the temper once before and he was grateful to not be at the end of it now. "It was Slypnuth, a sleeping draft that puts a person into a deep, dreamless sleep."

A muscle ticked beneath the pale skin of his jaw, the dark shadows that were smudged beneath his eerie eyes giving him a terribly haunted look. "When will she wake?"

"She won't. She will sleep until the end of time unless you know where to procure Waikunth." His tail moved restlessly from side to side as he glanced at Hatter. "Which you can't, not anymore. The use of Slypnuth had been banned in Underland since the time of the Old Kings." He faded from view and reappeared on the branch where the Raven was still perched. Just as the cat was about to pounce on the bird, the raven faded from view and reappeared perched on a higher branch. Chessur blinked in surprise and his grin returned slightly, his sharp teeth appeared to be ready to take a chunk out of ebony bird. "Evaporating skills? Well, that explains some things." He floated up from the branch and stared at the raven, his curiosity overwhelming his urge to make this bird his next meal. "You do know how to speak don't you? Why did you give that woman a sleeping draft? She appears to have been looking for you and this is how you treat her?" His grin grew as the raven ruffled its feathers and shook its head.

"…neeuQ etihW eht ot reh ekaT," the raven said in a musical voice that flowed so freely from its beak. It was a soothing voice but it was hard to tell if it was male or female.

"It should repeat that in a language we understand," said the Hatter, glancing up at the raven with a murderous glint in his eyes. "Unless it would rather lose its feathers…" A dangerous smile slid across his pale face.

Whatever the raven saw, it appeared to not like and it ruffled its feathers even more and suppressed a shiver. It turned a dark eye down toward the sleeping woman, watching her for a bit, before its feathers smoothed over.

"I would listen to him if I were you, Raven," said Chessur, who was now floating on his side and studying his claws. "It would be less painful for you."

The raven took in a breath and opened its beak to speak but a nasty choking sound escaped. The bird coughed and hacked for a moment before it shook its head and sighed. "That language is so hard on the tongue…" Its voice was so soothing to the ears and it seemed to even have a calming effect on the Hatter. The shadows had receded a bit from his face and his eyes were turning back to their electric green.

The raven looked at Chessur and the Hatter and then gave an uncanny bow to the both of them. "I beg your forgiveness Cheshire cat and Hatter. However I could not speak to you while she was awake."

"What do you mean you could not speak while she was awake?" Chessur dropped his claws, studying the raven with interest.

The raven looked at the cat and shook its head in reply. "I am bound by the magic of the Bl-Bla-Blaccchh-." It choked on the word it was trying to say and let out a cough. After a moment, it gave up trying to say whatever it was. A sad look appeared on its face and sighed. "I cannot speak of it, any of it. The only thing I can tell you is that you must take her to the White Queen. She is not safe, not out here where they can watch her. It is best if she does not speak, especially now that the sun is setting."

"They?" Chessur's ears perked up in curiosity. Something _was_ happening and the Cheshire cat had a gnawing feeling that it wouldn't be ending any time soon.

The raven looked down at the sleeping form of Helen and the look on its face could best be described as longing. "The Sh-Sh-shagghhh-." It choked on the words and then gave up without a fight. "Just take her to the White Queen, she will know how to make Waikunth to awaken her. The recipes will be hidden since they were banned but I am sure the Queen will find them somewhere…" It looked at the Hatter then and if it was possible for the bird to look disbelieving, it managed to pull it off. "I never would have expected that it would be you though..."

The Hatter frowned, a look of confusion evident in his mad eyes. "Me?"

"Yes you," said the raven with a firm nod in agreement. "I will warn you that you are not alone in this journey, there are others searching." It gazed down at Helen with a pointed look before it ruffled its feathers again. "It does feel good to be back in Underland though… Years of searching in that blasted Looking- Glass…" It started grumbling to itself before it remembered that it wasn't alone. It blinked and looked at Chessur, its beak rising slightly. "I am called Erom. I can't explain exactly what is happening." It looked down at the sleeping Helen and the look in its eyes grew soft. "I can say this though: Heed her riddles, her rhymes and her songs."

It flew down from its perch on the branch and landed on the ground beside the Hatter, studying the sleeping Helen in the man's arms. "She is mad, but only because she is not herself." It looked up at the Hatter; a pleading could be heard in its musical voice. "Not all of herself." It moved closer to Helen and reached out a wing to brush a few feathers across the burned flesh of her left arm. "I cannot speak while she is awake; I am bound to her as well as to the old spells of this land. However, I will help how I can." It looked up at the Hatter and ruffled its feathers. "Of all the people in Underland, how she had managed to choose someone as mad as you…"

Chessur chuckled at that last remark, ignoring the dark glare Hatter had thrown his way. He looked at the raven named Erom, the strange half story that it had told making very little sense, even in a place such as this. He looked down at the sleeping woman in his arms, confused as to how he had managed to get himself involved in something so unknown. The Oraculum should have foreseen this; it should have known that this woman would appear from the Upperland. Why didn't it? Why could this raven not speak of it? What was happening?

"Who is she?" The Hatter asked after a moment, studying the marred flesh of her right cheek and the smoothness of her other. Such a contrast that was on her face, chaos and order, damaged and unscathed…

"She is important," said Erom and backed away from the Hatter, glancing around at the trees as it fluffed itself out. "They're here… You must move quickly, make sure she isn't seen." And with that the ebony bird spread its wings and took to the air, fading from view.

The Hatter did not bother looking to see where the raven had gone, he had a feeling it would be meeting them at the White Queen's castle. The sound of something in the distance caught his ears, a sort of slithering sound, as if something was sliding over the leaves and through bushes.

"We aren't alone here," said Chessur as he appeared above the Hatter's head, looking at the road behind them. "I can't see them but they're there… We should move now Tarrant."

The Hatter studied Helen a moment longer before he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a tiny bottle. He stuck the cork between his yellowed teeth and pulled it out with a pop. He then cradled the sleeping woman's neck and tilted her head back so that her mouth hung open. He poured a little of the contents of the bottle into her mouth, just enough to do the job.

Helen's throat moved of its own accord, the involuntary movement of her muscles shifting beneath olive skin. She coughed once, twice, and soon she began to shrink at a rapid pace. Her robe slipped from her shrinking form and she was soon lost within the folds of her shirt and pants. Her gloves had slipped from her arms and fell to the ground, the burned flesh of her lower arms and hands now visible. It was a terrible and brief sight as she shrunk; the flesh was wrinkled and puckered on her lower arms and her hands looked raw. What had she been through?

Hatter managed to keep a hold on her even as she was shrinking, corking the tiny bottle once more and slipping it back in his pocket. After a moment, her shrinking stopped to a manageable two feet in height. She was tiny enough to keep hidden and there was no fear of her waking up if she was jostled around too much since there was no waking her. He pulled out a pair of scissors and began to cut quickly at the excess fabric of her shirt. He did his best to avoid looking at her burnt flesh, a faint touch of a shadow flowing across his pale face as his temper began to rise.

"Tarrant, any time now would suffice." Chessur broke the silence, his luminous eyes glancing down at the small form of Helen and then to the road behind them. "Of course, if you'd rather prefer being alone, I'd be happy to oblige." His grin had turned sly then, a mischievous glint appearing in his gaze as he caught the Hatter's eye.

"I would rather you kept your thoughts focused on other things Chess," he growled, his heavy accent revealing how close to the surface his temper was. He carefully wrapped Helen in her robe and held her against his chest while leaning forward to grab the rest of her clothing. They couldn't leave a trace and there was the hope that they would be safe at the castle of the White Queen.

He glanced over his shoulder, seeing nothing on the road or around trees but he sensed that there was something there, lurking just beyond the shadows. His bushy orange eyebrows coming together in a frown, he got to his feet and carefully adjusted so Helen so she wouldn't slip from his grasp. "Remind me when we see that raven to ask it why it is like a writing desk…" His voice was back to its soft and well spoken tone, his temper gone as quickly as it had come, as he started to walk quickly up the road.

Chessur chuckled in reply to this as he followed behind the Hatter. There was something in the air, a sort of buzzing that hummed with the unknown. Whatever it was that was happening, it was an unsettling thought that they had no idea what to do about it or how to handle it…


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

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><p>"<em>I'll tell thee everything I can;<em>

_There's little to relate._

_I saw an aged old man_

_A-sitting on a gate._

'_Who are you, aged man?' I said, 'and how is it you live?'_

_And his answer trickled through my head, like water through a sieve._

_He said, 'I look for butterflies that sleep among the wheat;_

_I make them into mutton-pies, and sell them on the street._

_I sell then unto men,' he said, 'Who sail on stormy seas;_

_And that's the way I get my bread- A trifle if you please…'"_

_.oOo._

By the time they had arrived at the gates of the White Queen's castle, night had descended upon them. The Hatter had found the silence that had descended since Helen's slumber to be much too unbearable and so he had sung a little song from his childhood, the memory of which he could not recall. He was surprised that such a song had emerged from the depths of his memory and he wondered from where he had heard it.

Helen slept in his arms, as small as a child, though her features were anything but. She did not stir, she did not sigh, she did not dream as others would have. She simply slept, looking close to being one of the dead were it not for the gentle rise and fall of her chest. He had studied her through the last legs of their journey, somewhat baffled by the strangeness of the Upperlander that had stumbled upon the March Hare's home. The words of the raven, Erom, drifted across his mad mind, the musical voice filled with longing and sadness.

_She is important…_

Important to whom? Why was this mad woman even here? What was happening in Underland that the Oraculum did not or could not foretell? Helen did not provide the answers; she simply spoke in riddles and rhymes that he did not fully understand. There was something intriguing about her though, something that called to the depths of him. As if he should somehow know this woman, though in what way he was not sure…

The knights of the White Queen, who stood guard at the gates, saluted him and Chessur as they passed. They were recognized as members of the court, though they did not spend their time there as some would have. Their efforts against the Red Queen's forces on that Frabjous Day had earned them their freedom from her tyranny. It was a shame that the Hatter's mind could not have healed on that day as well. He was not as he used to be and he did not trust his temper enough to stay at court as he used to back before the Red Queen had gained the crown. Since Alice had gone back to her world, there was no one else he felt an attachment to at the White Queen's court. He felt safer in that clearing in Tulgey Wood with his closest friends, the closest thing to a family he could ever have since that terrible day so long ago…

"Where did you hear that song?" asked Chessur, his luminous green eyes looking to his old friend. "I've never heard you sing it before."

The Hatter merely shook his head in reply, his bright green eyes having lost there vibrant energy. He was suddenly very tired from this entire ordeal, tired of these strange feelings and broken memories that Helen had triggered since their meeting. Had it only been half a day since she arrived? Time had frozen in that clearing, since the Hatter had made an attempt to kill it there while in waiting for Alice's return before that Frabjous Day. Time had not appreciated his "attempted" murder and had frozen the evening at precisely six pm. Since then, the clearing had been forever stuck in the hours of dusk while the rest of Underland went through morning and night. Of course, Time could not keep the entire land frozen, so the Hatter was grateful that there was some semblance of days everywhere else he traveled.

"I cannot recall," said the Hatter in reply to the cat, his pale face looking slightly paler in the light of the half moon. "It might have been something a family member had sung from when I was a child but I'm not certain…"

Chessur studied the Hatter with interest before his eyes fell down to the small form of Helen. "Interesting. How is it that you have not recalled it before now?"

The Hatter glanced up at the blue streaked, gray cat that floated beside him, a frustrated look in his eyes. "I do not know and I would appreciate if you would let it be."

The cat merely grinned and floated on ahead of him toward the grand staircase of the castle. The White Knights on guard at the staircase saluted the Cheshire cat as he floated by and again to the Hatter, who continued to walk with a sense of urgency, though they were now safe at the castle.

He glanced down at the sleeping Helen, the sight of her face, so still and silent, brought uneasiness within him. He was struck by the thought that he missed her strange riddles, rhymes and off tune singing. She had brought a much needed and amusing change to his usual day and the fact that that it had been cut silent so quickly did not settle easily with him. It was nice to have met a human that was as mad as he, if not more so. He could not help but wonder though, what it was that had made her mad in the first place…

.oOo.

The White Queen's throne room as was large and airy as the rest of her castle. Windows allowed the moonlight in and it complimented beautifully with the rest of the white and silver décor of the room. The gentle light from the torches and candles added to this feeling of heavenly ambiance and the Hatter felt much more at ease than he had since starting the journey.

The Queen of Underland, Mirana of Marmoreal, sat upon her elegant throne at the head of the room. She was a beautiful woman with long locks of silvery hair that rivaled that of the silvery white of her dress. The dark eyebrows above a pair of equally dark eyes gave a hint of something more to the gentle queen, though exactly what no one could say for sure.

"Ah!" The White Queen smiled in surprise, the sight of the Hatter and the Cheshire cat having been unexpected this day. "Tarrant! Chessur! What a wonderful surprise." She looked to her courtiers with a gentle smile and bowed her head to them. "If you would please excuse us…"

"Of course your Majesty," said the courtiers as one, bowing in unison before they turned in flurry of white skirts and trousers, their equally white wigs resembling puffs of clouds as they drifted out the nearest doorway. The Hatter started to laugh in his dizzying way, the thought of what Helen might have said at the sight of them drifting through his mad mind at the same time and suddenly wishing she were awake to see it.

Once the throne room was empty, save for the Queen and her guests, she was up from her throne and descending the staircase to meet her friends. She moved with a grace that was otherworldly, her delicate hands held up in the air as if every motion were a dance to her. The Hatter had been right in thinking that Mad Helen had mimicked the way the Queen moved. They both held a grace that was a pleasure to the eyes and he could not help but smile at the thought. Dear Mad Helen, mimicking the movements of a queen she had never met, that was indeed funny to think of.

"My dear friends," said the Queen, stopping before them and sighing in a dramatic way. "I fear it has been much too long since I have seen you. Please tell me, how fairs Thackery and Mallymkun?"

The Hatter bowed his head to the Queen, being careful not to move Helen, although there was no way of waking her. "All is well in Tulgey Wood, your Majesty. The tea party commences as it always has…"

Chessur gave a bow as well, tucking a paw across his furry chest, though his grin remained ever seductive in its feline way. "Though an unexpected guest had paid a visit." The cat cast his luminous eyes down toward the tiny, sleeping form of the mad woman in the Hatter's arms.

The Queen, at first confused by the Cheshire cat's statement, followed his gaze and noticed the tiny woman wrapped in an unusual white robe, stained with dirt and mud, in the Hatter's arms. A light frown touched the Queen's face as she studied the face, an inkling of familiarity settling within her heart of hearts. "Who is this?"

The Hatter glanced down at the woman in his arms, silent for but a heartbeat before he looked at his queen. "This is Mad Helen," he said in reply, as if it were enough to explain who she was and where she had come from.

Chessur studied his old friend, noting the silence that followed that statement, and sighing in exasperation. "She is an Upperlander who had wandered into Tulgey Wood."

The Queen glanced at the cat and her frown deepened just a fraction. "An Upperlander? Do you mean from Alice's world?"

The cat merely shrugged in response, not entirely certain if that were so. "I did not see her come from the direction of the Room of Doors. She had appeared through the trees and brush, it might have been from the South or the East…"

"From Snud? Or Queast?" The Queen studied the tiny woman, noting the marred flesh of her right cheek and not liking the sight of it. "She does not look like a native of either land and she does not have the air of coming from Alice's world." She paused, deep in thought, before her dark eyes glanced at the Hatter. "Why do you call her Mad Helen?"

"That is what she calls herself Majesty," said the Hatter in reply, a light smile playing on his pale features. If the White Queen had met Helen earlier in the day, she would understand exactly why she would be called mad.

The Queen noted the smile on the Hatter's face and curiosity caught her even further. When had she last seen the Hatter smile in such a fashion? The last she could recall was when Alice had been here in Underland. That darling girl had such a positive affect on Tarrant but it had not been meant for her to stay, though the Hatter would have thrived much better than he had if she did. It had been her choice to leave and though Alice had been fond of Tarrant, she had chosen to go home. She hadn't been back since that Frabjous Day. How long had it been since Alice had left?

There she went again, her thoughts drifting on and on when she should be focused on this tiny woman in the Hatter's arms. Silence fell as both the cat and the Hatter waited for the Queen to focus her thoughts. The Queen's eyes studied the woman even further, the tangled mess of dark curls, the burnt flesh, and the complete silence as Helen did not react at all to the sound of the voices that spoke around her.

"Why does she not wake?" The Queen asked, looking between the cat and the Hatter.

The Hatter and Chessur glanced at one another, unsure of how the White Queen would react to the answer. A silent look past between the two and the cat sighed, a frustrated look appearing in his large, luminous eyes. "She was given Slypnuth by a raven who calls itself Erom." He noted the shocked look on the Queen's face and continued on, knowing that she would have the same understanding of the situation as they did. Which, at the moment, was not a lot to go by considering what the raven had been able to tell them. "The raven had given the sleeping draft to the woman because it had said-."

"She was important," said the Hatter, interrupting the cat as he stared down at Helen with confusion and curiosity in his bright, green gaze. He looked at the Queen and he swallowed, his pale face touched with a faint shadow, a sure sign of his temper rising. "It had put her to sleep to speak with us but it couldn't explain who she was or why she was here."

The Queen studied the Hatter, noting the shadows beneath his eyes and deciding it would best to act quickly. She glanced down at the sleeping form with confusion and slight amusement. Whoever this woman was, she already had a dizzying affect on the Hatter, though in what way the Queen had yet to determine. She had to find the remedy for the Slypnuth and knowing her ancestors, they had kept the recipe for that potion somewhere locked away in the library's deepest parts.

"Is she normally this… small?" She looked to the Hatter, a dark brow raised in question.

At this, the Hatter laughed, a mad laugh that would have scared a sane person straight from the room. It was a blessed thing that both the Queen and the cat were used to his fits of madness by now and the Queen sighed heavily, a breath slipping past dark rouged lips. "Hatter!"

The Hatter stopped and coughed, catching himself and feeling slightly off kilter. "Er… I'm fine," he muttered. It was strange, he rather enjoyed the fact that Helen would laugh with him in his moments of madness. Who else could laugh with him aside from Thackery and Mallymkun? Chessur did not share in their madness, not entirely, and would not share in those fits of pure insanity. Dear Mad Helen had fit in quite nicely at their tea party and he was faintly surprised at how that simple train of thought had ended. He missed Helen's madness, it made him feel… normal, if that were possible at all in this place.

"We had to hide her, so the raven had said. There were things watching her," said the Hatter, after a very awkward pause. He said no more after this and stared at Chessur expectantly.

The cat sight heavily and rolled his eyes, his tail swaying lightly as he began to purr. He was tired from the day's events so far and wanted nothing more than to go back to the wood and hunt. That was something that he knew, that he could depend on. This whole business with the woman named Helen was proving more stranger by the moment. He had always refrained from joining in on things that had nothing to do with him. Yet, he had to blame his own curiosity for this particular predicament. There was something about Helen that called to him and he was curious enough to find out exactly what.

"Your Majesty, we have no clue as to what is happening." The cat turned over on his back, purring away as he stretched in a very lazy way. "This woman had appeared from no where, spouting riddles and rhymes, madder than Thackery if it were possible. There was no mention of her in the Oraculum, not before this day or after, especially not _on_ this day." He turned right side up and frowned, studying the sleeping Helen with concern. "She had no place there so we had decided to bring her to you. That was when the raven appeared and had given her the Slypnuth. It could not speak of what was happening. It had said that there were old spells that it was bound to, there were… _things_ that were following us because of her and she appears to be in the middle of it all, though why that is..." The cat trailed off and shrugged in reply, there was no answer to that question. That was why they were here in the first place, to find an answer to the mystery of why this woman was here.

The Queen was silent for a moment, taking in this bit of information as her frown deepened. "What of this raven? This Erom? Where is it now?"

As if it knew it had been called, the ebony bird appeared upon the Hatter's tattered top hat in a plume of gray and black smoke, bowing its head in respect to the White Queen. "My apologies your Majesty," said the raven, its musical voice bringing a reluctant smile to the Queen's face. "I did not mean to thrust this upon you." It glanced down, catching the eye of the Hatter and noting the hint of red in his green eyes.

The bird quickly flew from the hat and landed on the outstretched hand of the Queen, who looked simply delighted at the sight of it. "A raven… Has it been so long since we have seen one like you here in Underland?" Her question remained unanswered, hanging in the air as their thoughts began to drift to when the kingdom had last seen a raven in Underland. She could not recall ever seeing one in her entire life…

Her smile had faded as this perplexing thought prodded her and poked at her, taunting her with its mystery. There was something terribly wrong here… Why could she not recall these things? Her dark eyes met the raven's and the bird shook its small head in reply.

"I cannot speak your Majesty, I am sorry," it said in its soothing voice, easing the frustration that was welling within her. "All I can say is that you must awaken the girl. Awaken her and she will speak what I cannot." It looked at the sleeping Helen and its dark eyes grew misty. "Though what she speaks is all rhymes and riddles…"

The Queen sighed a sweet sigh and reached out to stroke the bird's graceful dark head. "So it must be… Though I still do not understand how the Oraculum had not foreseen such an event on this day…"

"That cannot be answered, not here and not by me," said Erom as it ruffled its feathers and glanced at the Cheshire cat, not liking the way he eyed it. "I can say that the recipe for Waikunth can be found at the back of the library. On the top most shelf, beside a dark blue book…"

The Queen studied the raven, her own curiosity peeking as she thought of all the books that rested within the castle library. She looked to the Hatter, noticing that he had taken to studying the marred flesh of Helen's face. How had such an accident occurred to this woman? Who was she?

"I suggest we place our sleeping Mad Helen somewhere more comfortable," said Chessur as he floated around the Hatter and let loose a bored yawn. "She'll need a good bite of Upelkuchen before she can drink anything as strong Waikunth."

"Of course," said the Queen, a bright smile playing on her dark rouged lips as she set the raven on her shoulder and clasped her hands. "That is something I am very familiar with." She looked at the Hatter and Chessur, noting the tired looks on their faces and her felt her heart grow warm at the sight. Even thrust by the madness of a complete stranger, they still felt the need to make sure this woman had made it safely. "Firstly though, let us get you rooms for the night. I am sure you are all very tired and it does not appear that dear Helen will awaken before you."

The Hatter laughed at this, a real laugh of amusement as he adjusted his hold on Helen. She was tiny but his arms were growing tired and a nice warm bed was sounding so wonderful at the moment…

"Erom, my sweet, would you like to stay with Helen? I am sure you would feel better with her." The Queen looked to the raven, smiling in such a sweet way that the bird smoothed its dark feathers with delight. Even a raven could not help but be charmed by the White Queen of Underland.

"As your Majesty commands," said Erom in its musical voice, bowing its head to the Queen.

"Come then," said the Queen, smiling at her friends and turning in a whirl of silvery white skirts. The raven managed to remain on the Queen's shoulder as she glided in her dancing way toward one of the many doors that led further into the castle.

Chessur followed after the Queen, his large feline eyes on the bird the entire way, though he knew better than to try and pounce. The Hatter followed after the Queen, his gaze dropping down to the silent face of Helen. She did not stir, she did not sigh, she did not even dream. She simply slept, her chest rising gently with each breath. It unnerved him how much he wanted to see those dark orbs, to see that bright smile from before as she laughed and danced. She was mad, but there was something within that madness that he envied. That brief moment of happiness she had shared while in his and Chessur's presence. When could he recall feeling such happiness? With Alice… With his family…

"Raven," said the Hatter, looking up from the sleeping Helen to catch the eye of the ebony bird. "Have you any idea why you are like a writing desk?"

Erom stared back at the Mad Hatter, its dark eyes blinked and then it ruffled its feathers and looked away, its beak turned slightly up in the air.

The Hatter studied the bird as the group made their way through the halls of the castle and he noted the dark, glossy feathers. He remembered Helen's answer to that riddle and he laughed, a dizzying laugh that neither the Queen nor the Cheshire cat made any attempt to calm…


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

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><p>"Ah, let's see…" The White Queen held onto the oil lamp as she eyed the top most book shelf that lined the back wall of the castle library. "Where would it be?"<p>

She paused in front of the last section and held the lamp higher, eying the titles along the spines. As if it were afraid of the light, a dark blue book just barely managed to be seen. The Queen stopped in surprise and studied the dark blue book. It was an odd book, old and tattered with no title upon its spine. It seemed to draw in the light from the lamp for some strange reason.

Ignoring the odd book for now, her dark eyes searched the book beside it and found an even smaller book, the color of the binding darker than any shadow in Underland. A prickle of unease made its way up her graceful spine as she studied the book. The title upon the spine was done in silver ink, the language of being that of very old Outlandish.

Silent for a moment, she studied the book before moving to grab the stool that she had dragged with her. She nudged the stool underneath the shelf and set the lamp down to avoid dropping it. Gathering her silvery skirts, she stepped up onto the stool and reached to grab the black book. A shudder passed through her at the feel of the old leather but she pulled it down regardless. Turning it over, she studied the cover and frowned lightly at the symbol of a spade, like the one from the suit of a deck of cards, embossed on its over. How odd…

Glancing up, she studied the dark blue book without the title and, after much thought, reached up and grabbed it…

.oOo.

"_Tarrant! Tarrant look!"_

_A young girl's laugh flowed freely across the flower field. There on the hill, the sun was shining so beautifully and the girl's laughter filled the teenage boy with such happiness. The young girl had arrived and leaned over him, staring down at him with a bright smile. She held up a piece of paper, a pencil sketching of the hill and the flower field could be seen. _

"_What do you think?" The young girl giggled as she waved it to and fro, her bright red, waving, hair glistening in the sun's light. "I've been learning and I think it looks all right…"_

_Tarrant laughed in reply as he sat up from his bed among the grass and flowers. "It looks wonderful…"_

_The girl smiled happily, her light green eyes twinkling with silent laughter. "Eronel and I have been considering things that begin with the letter M." She sat down beside him, setting her drawing aside._

"_Have you now?" The teenager laughed, enjoying the sight of the young girl's happy face._

"_Oh yes," said the girl, clasping her hands together. "Like the moon and March and muchness, could never forget muchness." Her green eyes grew wide and her mouth formed a small "o" in surprise. "And memory! One could never forget one's memory…" The girl's eyes suddenly grew sad and she dropped her hands to her lap, looking so forlorn. "You forgot…" _

"_Forgot?" Tarrant frowned thoughtfully, trying to piece together what the girl was speaking of. "What have I forgotten?" How could he forget…? _

_Forget… _

_He stared at the young girl, suddenly struck that he could not recall who she was. The young girl __continued to look sadder and sadder as two, solitary tears rolled down her cheeks._

"_You forgot…" Her voice was a mere whisper now and she was growing smaller by the moment, her sweet little dress growing tattered and burnt. The field of flowers began to wilt and wither away as a dark cloud smothered the rays of the sun. Tarrant cried out in shock and despair as fire erupted about the small girl's form._

"_You forgot…" She whispered as she faded from view…_

.oOo.

The Hatter awoke with a gasp of fright, his mad eyes searching the shadows that were now leaving his room at the morning light. He looked around, searching for any telltale signs of whatever it was that haunted him. What had he been dreaming of?

He frowned as he held a hand to his pale forehead, his mop of untidy, orange hair sticking out in all directions. He was forgetting the dream already, something to do with a hill and the letter M…

He sat up in his bed and looked at the tattered top hat that rested on the post of the headboard. A sigh escaped his lips, the ache in his heart refusing to disappear. _A dream… It had just been a dream… A terrible, terrible dream…_

.oOo.

The Queen had been working in the large kitchen since the wee hours of the morning and was now looking over the black book's pages as she searched for the recipe of Waikunth. Thankfully, she was fluent enough in Outlandish, even the ancient version of it, and could make out the strange ingredients listed in the middle of the old book's pages.

"Here we are, Waikunth," said the Queen, as her finger slid down over the yellowed page, noting that the ingredients were fairly simple. "Comb of a rooster… hand of a clock… a dab of morning light…" She continued to run her finger over the page and it fell on the last ingredient. "… Lover's blown kiss…" Her smile faded just a bit and a frown touched her delicate features. "I don't have that…" She set the book down on the counter and drummed her fingernails against the scrubbed wood.

She thought for a moment as her eyes fell on the dark blue book that rested beside the smaller book that bore the symbol of the spade. Both books were odd.

She could not stand to look at the dark blue book, it bore no title or symbol to identify it and there was something that nagged her to stay away from it. The black book, on the other hand, was a potions book used for the darker arts, mainly in finding ways to harm one's enemy. Thankfully, the book also had antidotes for many of the harmful ones, including Slypnuth. Whoever had written this book had an intimate knowledge of the darker arts but had also had enough sense to add a remedy for many of the harmful potions should the need arise. The only problem was that the Queen could not figure out who had written it. The spade on the cover was a telling sign but she could not recall for the life of her what it represented. It was as if there was something blocking her search for the meaning behind it. In fact, if she continued studying the black book, she noticed that the silver spade was beginning to grow dull and blurry…

She blinked and shook her head, focusing her attention away from the book. There was something happening here and she did not like it. It was at that moment that a sudden idea struck her and her smile returned, her dark eyes looking up to the ceiling. A sigh escaped her dark rouged lips and she walked around the counter, grabbing a piece of paper as she went…

.oOo.

"Tarrant!" The Queen's musical drifted from the corridor and in through the open doorway of the Hatter's room. The Hatter, who had slept in his clothes, was smoothing out the wrinkles as best as he could. He was just setting his tattered hat on his head as the Queen stopped just short of the threshold and knocked upon the open door.

"Tarrant, good morning. I need your help."

The Hatter looked at his queen and bowed in respect, though he kept his hat on to hide the fatigue. The Queen noted the shadows that lingered beneath his eyes just before they had been hidden and she walked in, a worried look in her dark eyes. "Tarrant, are you all right?"

He glanced up and smiled, trying his best to hide the uneasiness that had been with him since he had awoken. "Bad dreams your Majesty," he said before heaving a sigh. He tried his best to ignore the nagging in the back of his mind.

_Forgotten…_

"What did you need assistance with?" He wanted to avoid trying to remember what that dream had been about and steering the conversation to something else would do the trick.

The Queen noted the quick change of subject, the unusual clarity within the Hatter's mad green eyes and the slight twitching of his hands. She left it be, knowing better than to pursue the subject. She held up the paper and smiled, her silvery locks spilling over her slender shoulders. "Blow a kiss for me."

"I… What?" Surprise flickered briefly across his pale face, caught slightly off guard by the request.

The Queen held up the paper even higher and waved it back and forth, causing the shadows to appear across his face even more and he looked away. The terrible feeling of his dream was nagging him even worse…

_Forgotten…_

She didn't comment on the strangeness of the Hatter, the strangeness that usually occurred when he was haunted by something. She held the paper still and kept the gentle smile on her face. "Blow a kiss for me, it is important. You do wish to help Helen, don't you?"

At the mention of the mad woman, the shadows receded just a bit from his face and he looked at the Queen. "How would it-?"

"Please Tarrant," she said as she held up the paper higher and her smile grew, her dark eyes pleading.

The Hatter hesitated for just a moment before he placed his bandaged fingers over his lips and kissed them. He blew, rather weakly, in the direction of the paper and noted the sudden sparkles of light that flew from his fingertips. A few seconds later, a marking of a pair of lips appeared on the paper, the exact shape as the Hatter's.

The Queen's smile was bright as she looked at the paper and folded it nice and neatly. "That should do it, thank you Tarrant."

The Hatter was a little confused as the Queen suddenly turned and left his room, leaving him alone with his muddled thoughts. Meanwhile, the Queen hurried down the corridors back toward the kitchen. She had the last ingredient for the potion of Waiknuth and she wanted to awaken the woman who slept deeply and dreamlessly. It shouldn't have surprised her that the blown kiss would have appeared from the Hatter's own lips and yet she still was. She wanted to know exactly what it was that the woman named Helen felt toward the last of the Hightopp Clan. What importance did this woman have? She was a key to a mystery that the Queen wanted so badly to unravel. A mystery she knew had something to do with those odd books…

.oOo.

"Where do you hail from?" Chess asked, for the umpteenth time that morning. He was lying at the foot of the bed that Helen slept on, eying the raven. Erom was perched on the headboard of the canopied bed, studying the tiny form of the woman as it tried its best to ignore the cat.

The cat flicked his tail as his grin grew wider at the sight of the agitation that flickered across the bird's face. "Well, if you won't tell me, at least inform me about this woman. She seems to be familiar with things about Underland. Things an Upperlander shouldn't really know of…"

Erom let out a sigh and stretched its wings, a yawn slipping past. Staying up all night watching the woman had taken its toll on the ebony bird and it had let its guard down slightly. "She is not a true Upperlander. I've been searching for years for her and finally found her in a place where the Upperlanders keep their mad…" It blinked slowly and shook its head, trying to stay awake. "She is from the Outland, a missing d-d-" At that moment it began to choke, its dark eyes growing wide as whatever old spells that kept it bound quickly ceased it from talking.

Chessur studied the raven with interest, catching the last part of what it said and silently cursing whatever spells kept it in check. He turned his luminous green eyes to the woman and sighed heavily. Well, at least they knew where she was likely from. An Outlander…

Now that he got a better look at her, the unmarred features of her face did seem to be familiar with the natives of that area. Not entirely though, she looked as if she might have been mixed with something other than Outlander…

"Cheshire cat, please refrain from asking anymore questions unless you would rather see me choke to death." Erom glared at the cat, its musical voice filled with frustration. It had finally gained its breath and looked slightly better than it had a moment before.

Chessur grinned in response and said nothing in reply, only his purr filled the silence. They stayed that way for some time before the door to the room opened and they looked to see the Hatter enter. "How is she?"

"Still asleep," said Chessur as he floated up from the bed and moved toward the Hatter. "Her Majesty has not been by with the Waikunth to awaken her or with the Upelkuchen to restore her to normal size."

The Hatter said nothing in response as he moved to the bedside of Helen, his lime green eyes lacking the usual electricity of his madness. He seemed oddly aware this morning, aside from his twitching, and Chessur noticed this. Something was wrong. "Tarrant, are you-."

"Here we are!" The Queen's voice sailed in through the doorway as she glided in from the corridor. She was not alone, a white rabbit in a waistcoat followed after her, holding a small covered dish as it moved along after its queen. The White Queen was holding onto a crystal flask that contained a very bright, yellow liquid that seem to glow in the morning light. She paused on the other side of the bed from where the Hatter stood, her smile ever pleasant and cheerful. "It took some time to add in the last ingredient but we managed, didn't we Nivens?" The Queen turned her gentle eyes to the white rabbit, her smile bringing Nivens McTwisp to smile in reply.

"Yes your Majesty," he said, bowing his head to his queen while his paws held carefully onto the dish he carried.

The Queen looked to the Hatter, the Cheshire cat and the Raven as she held up the flask, a triumphant look appearing in her dark eyes. "Let us wake our dear Helen."

The Hatter smiled at that, the thought of being able to speak with Helen again chasing the haunting and terrible feelings from his dream out of his mind. She was going to be awakened, how much he had missed her silly rhymes and songs.

"Nivens, if you would be so kind as to give the cake to Tarrant? We'll need to have our guest be the proper size before she can drink this."

The Hatter looked to the Queen and then to the white rabbit, his pale face growing slightly paler. "Me?"

The Queen looked at her hatter and smiled kindly, noticing the hesitation and suspicion growing in his eyes. He was regaining that madness of his; the sizzling energy that normally sparked from his entire demeanor had been subdued this morning for some odd reason. This was enough of a distraction to keep him away from whatever dark thoughts that flowed through that mad mind.

"Yes you," said the Queen in reply. "She is familiar with you. You are the only one that she is familiar with who has opposable thumbs in which to feed her with."

Chessur chuckled at that statement, ignoring the dark frown that the Hatter had sent his way. Seeing no room to argue with his queen, the Hatter watched as McTwisp hopped around the bed and lifted the small cover to the dish. Lying on the dish was a small piece of brown cake that was covered in white frosting.

"Feed her the entire piece," said McTwisp, holding the dish steady as the Hatter reached to take the cake. "It will restore her to her rightful height."

The Hatter said nothing in reply as he moved toward the bed and leaned over. He reached down to place his hand under Helen's tiny neck and sat her up, cradling her carefully. Her wild, tangled curls spilled over his pale hand as he urged her mouth open and slipped the cake in. He was careful as he stuffed the cake as far down toward her throat as he could before removing his fingers. It took but a moment but Helen's throat began to work of its own accord and she swallowed the piece of cake easily enough. A troubled frown touched her face as she twitched and then she began to grow, a steady growth that managed to reveal that her shirt was now much too small for her. Thankfully, she was covered by bedding and a quilt so much of her lack of clothing was not revealed to the others. When she finally stopped growing she was her very own height, a height that the Hatter found that he liked very much.

"Dear me, she is still a small thing isn't she?" The White Queen laughed gently as she handed the crystal flask to the Hatter, undoing the cork while the animals, aside from Chessur, watched with bated breath. "Give her this and do it slowly. She must drink all of it."

The Hatter gave a nod as he reached out to take the flask from the Queen. Cradling Helen's slender neck, he gently placed the lip of the flask to her parted lips and poured the contents. She began to swallow without protest, her throat working as she swallowed the Waikunth almost eagerly. It was as if her body was craving to be brought back from this terrible, deep sleep she was in.

Erom smoothed its feathers over as a look of relief swept across its face. It looked to the White Queen and caught her eye, while the others watched as the Hatter continued to pour the potion within Helen's mouth. "I will not be able to speak at all once she awakens so please: Heed her rhymes, her riddles and… sgnos rehhhgggrh…" It choked, its musical voice slipping into a strange language before it hacked and coughed. The White Queen stared in surprise as the raven shook its head and looked down, a terribly sad look on its face.

At that moment, Helen had finished drinking the last of the Waiknuth and the Hatter set the flask aside. There was a moment of silence, a span of a heartbeat passing, before a gasp escaped Helen's parted lips, the shock of awakening jolting her system. Her eyes snapped open and those dark orbs locked on with the Hatter's electric green ones. He was unsure of how to greet her, a small smile appearing on his pale face. Would she remember him within that mad mind of hers?

There was pure terror in her eyes as she reached out to grasp the front of the Hatter's coat, her familiar voice cracking with fear. "The fire… The fire! It burns! It burns!" She started to cry as she buried her face within the Hatter's shirt, her gasping sobs tearing the small smile from his face. "Don't forget! Don't! Memories… The shadows are there, waiting in the memories…"

McTwisp had dropped the dish he carried from fright, the porcelain smashing to pieces on the marble floor. The White Queen had gone pale, whatever she had been expecting for the woman named Helen to say, it certainly had not been that. The raven could say nothing of course, it only watched Helen as the look in its dark eyes grew sadder. The grin on Chessur's face had dimmed, the terror on Helen's marred face was all too real and he didn't like the sight of it.

The Hatter said nothing, the words that Helen had spoken bringing back the terrible feelings from his dream...

_Memories… Forgotten… _

She continued to cry against his chest, wetting the front of his shirt as her tangled curls hid the burnt side of her face. He wrapped his arms around her and held her closer, trying to still the erratic twitching of the mad woman who continued to cry of fire and shadows and memories…


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

* * *

><p><em>(An) Thank you for the wonderful reviews, favs and alerts everyone. It makes the writing more enjoyable when I know others enjoy reading it. Please forgive the lack of updates._

_.oOo._

"_Jack be nimble…_

_Jack be quick…_

_Jack has dropped the candlestick…_

_Fire above you, Fire below…_

_Fire upon you, tears of woe…"_

_.oOo._

The moment Helen's heart wrenching sobs had ceased to quiet sniffles, the White Queen had ordered everyone, save for the Hatter, out of the room. The Hatter had such a frown on his pale face, never letting the woman go as she began to mutter a new rhyme. Over and over she said this rhyme, her twitching growing worse as her mad and dark thoughts plagued her.

The Queen made sure that the door was closed tightly and locked before she turned to look at the Hatter and Helen. The woman continued to mutter the rhyme as she held onto the Hatter as if for dear life. He was, very awkwardly, running a bandaged hand over her tangled curls, the clarity in his vivid eyes speaking measures of the worry that touched him.

"Tarrant, this isn't natural," said the White Queen as she gathered her skirts and moved back toward the bed. The Hatter had looked up at her in question and the Queen reached out to gently grab Helen's left hand. The woman didn't react to the contact; she simply muttered the rhyme over and over as she stared blankly at the large bow tie of the Hatter's. The Queen studied the raw, pink flesh of her hand and tears welled up in her eyes as she noted the burnt flesh that rose up to the shoulders of Helen's arms. She gently moved the arm out into the morning light that streamed in through the large windows.

Cast on the blankets of the bed, the Queen's shadow could be seen holding onto nothing. Her arm was held aloft, holding Helen's hand, and yet there was no shadow to be seen where Helen's arm was. The Hatter had known that Helen lacked a shadow; he had seen it for himself several times. That was why he and Chessur had made the journey to find out what the cause of it was. They had hoped that Mirana of Marmoreal might know the answer to at least one of the mysteries that surrounded Helen.

The Queen apparently knew exactly what had happened to Helen and she gently squeezed the woman's hand as she looked at the Hatter. "She has been split."

The Hatter frowned in reply, confused as to what the Queen was saying. The White Queen shook her head and gently released Helen's hand, which quickly found its way up and around the Hatter's neck. The Queen rose gracefully to her feet and moved toward the vanity table that rested on the other side of the room. She pulled out a drawer and reached in, grabbing hold of a fairly large hand mirror. Pulling it out, she moved back toward the bed and held up the mirror. "Look, see for yourself."

The Hatter glanced at the hand mirror that the Queen held and the sight nearly made him fall back in surprise. In the mirror's gaze, he could see himself, from his tattered top hat to his worn coat. He could see himself clearly… Yet Helen was no where to be seen. He was holding onto nothing…

He studied the mirror and then glanced down at the woman he held. She was twitching still and muttering her rhyme over and over. He could feel her warmth, feel the wetness of her tears, and feel the strong grip of her hand around his neck. She was there, she was real… He looked at the mirror once more and nearly felt his heart sink. She was here but her reflection was no where to be found.

_He stole my reflection…_

Those mad words that she had muttered from the moment she had first arrived to the clearing now made sense. Whatever had happened to her, it had caused this madness in her. Who would have stolen such a vital piece of a person?

The Queen noted the realization that flickered past the Hatter's pale features and she set the mirror down on the bed. "This was very dark magic to have split a person from their reflection." She looked down at Helen, her sadness growing at the sight of the marred flesh of her right cheek. "Add that to the fact that her shadow is missing as well, I am surprised she can manage to function as she is."

The Hatter blinked and looked up at the Queen. "Function?" he said, his voice dropping down to the guttural growl of his native accent. "This is not what I would call 'functioning,' your Majesty…"

A touched smile appeared on her dark rouged lips as she noticed the very protective stance his form had taken. He was not twitching anymore and his electric eyes were clear with purpose. "I do understand Tarrant. I had meant to say that for a person who had her soul split thrice, she is still alive and speaking… to a fault."

"How now, no shadows please…" said Helen on cue, her cracked voice wavering as her dark eyes moved away from the sight of the Hatter's garish bowtie. Her dark eyes moved up to look at the White Queen for the first time. A moment of silence past before Helen's hand was slipping from around the Hatter's neck. She reached out, as if hoping to touch the Queen, the tears in her eyes pooling. "The Queen of Spring… I hope to sing… the joy of that Frabjous Day. I look to you O' Queen of Spring… help find where my shadows play…"

The Hatter could only watch in amazement, not understanding this new rhyme that slipped from Helen's lips. The Queen however, was listening intently as she reached forward to take Helen's hand. "Tell me Helen, where does your shadow play?"

Helen's dark eyes searched the Queen's own, a deep frown touching her olive toned skin. She looked toward the large windows, her wild dark curls brushing against the pale cheek of the Hatter. She studied the windows, which allowed the morning light to spill into her room. "Place a mirror toward the east… There you shall find the fertile land of Queast… Where there lies a massive feast… Lion and Unicorn do fight but a child plays between the beasts…."

The Queen's gaze focused on the sight of the blue sky outside, studying the rays of light that spilled in. Her frown grew thoughtful, a heartbeat of silence passing before she looked at the Hatter. "I will need time to work this out. She speaks in riddles but I have a feeling she knows what is going on. I don't know what to do about her reflection but I can help in finding her shadow. If it is where I think it is, we'll have to find a way of bringing it here." She smiled at Helen and gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it. "Don't worry Helen, we'll help you." She looked at the Hatter and took in a breath. "We'll need to get her comfortable. She will need to be bathed, clothed, and also fed. I'm sure she must be starving."

Her smile was a sweet one as she studied the sight of the Hatter still sitting on the bed and holding onto the mad woman. It was a sad and loving sight, two damaged souls and one offering comfort to another. "Tarrant, will you please excuse us? I'm afraid it would be rather improper for you to be here. She is in desperate need of a bath." She finished this comment by pointing to the bits of leaves and twigs that were clinging to Helen's mad, dark tangles.

A touch of color rose up into the Hatter's pale cheeks at the thought and he glanced at Helen, who was staring off into the distance and muttering that rhyme of _Jack and the Dropped Candlestick_ to herself. He noted her dirtied appearance and lack of clothing before looking quickly away. "Of course, your Majesty," he said, his voice reverting back to its well spoken lisp.

He gently began to pull away from Helen, noticing that she had ceased in her twitching and was closing her eyes. She remained sitting up, her cracked voice muttering on and on while Hatter got up from the bed to leave her. It was as he was getting up that a hand reached out to catch his bandaged one. He glanced down in surprise, noting the left hand of Helen clinging tightly to his right. He looked at her in question and noticed the slight clarity in her dark orbs.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" asked Helen, her left hand, which still bore the mark from Erom's beak, twitched only once. The wound had reopened from the contact and fresh blood slowly oozed past the clot.

The Hatter was silent but a small smile played on his lips as he gently brought up Helen's wounded hand and brushed a feather light kiss across her knuckles. "Dark quills, of course…" he said, after a meaningful silence, and a gentle curl of her lips indicated that she had understood.

"Thank you Hatter…" said Helen, her voice now but a whisper as the clarity in her dark eyes slowly slipped back into the madness from whence it came.

.oOo.

The morning had past with little excitement and the early afternoon came swiftly. Time seemed to be in a rush this day. The Hatter had gone off to the gardens to stroll among the flowers and trees. After the Queen had shooed the Hatter from Helen's room, he had gone to seek out the companionship of the cat that had traveled with him thus far. He did not want to be left alone with his thoughts, not after the dream he had had, whatever it had been about… Something about the letter M? Or was it H?

"You look troubled Tarrant."

The Hatter glanced up to catch sight of the Cheshire cat lounging upon the branch of a tree, its leaves stirring gently in the rising breeze. The cat was purring rather loudly, looking content to bask beneath the shadow of the leaves. He watched the Hatter closely, his luminous green eyes studying the man's every move.

The Hatter rubbed the fingers of his right hand, noting the sight of blood upon his bandages. It was not his own, that he knew. He frowned and gently shook his head. "Someone had stolen her reflection…"

Chessur's ears perked up with interest, his grin growing as his purring grew softer. "I could have told you that. She was muttering something about it the moment we met. Something about the raven knowing her reflection I believe…" he trailed off, his grin dimming just a bit. "She said that the raven danced on the mountains with stars. Also something about a dream weaver or some such thing." He let loose a yawn and rolled off the branch, catching himself in the air.

"Mountains?" The Hatter's frown grew deep and he continued to rub his fingers. A heartbeat passed and he looked at the cat, his mad green eyes filled with confusion. "What if she is the reflection? A mere shadow of what was?"

Chessur's grin remained as he floated over to his old friend, his tail beginning to twitch. "That would make things easier for us. If she were nothing more than a ghost then we could send her on her way." He stopped in front of the Hatter and shook his feline head. "However, you cannot ignore that fact that she bleeds. No reflection or shadow would bleed as she does." The cat looked down at the stain of blood that touched the Hatter's bandaged right hand. "I do believe we have the true body of the woman. She is simply missing vital pieces of herself."

"Forgotten," the Hatter muttered, recalling a shadow of a feeling about what his dream had been. "She has forgotten herself…"

Chessur said nothing in response, his luminous eyes moving to catch sight of someone making their way up the walkway. The Hatter noticed that his friend was distracted and followed his gaze to catch sight of the Queen gliding her way toward them. Behind her, a familiar form was moving in a skipping dance, a dance that had been amusing to watch throughout the journey here.

It was Helen, now cleaned of all the dirt and grime that had caked her since their initial meeting. Her tangled, dark curls had been tamed into a braid that settled between her shoulder blades, though a few tiny curls still sought their freedom. She was dressed in a pair of dark blue slacks that looked to be made of satin. A corset gave way to the curvy features of her petite form, the front laces reaching all the way up to her chest. A high necked jacket buttoned to her throat, the hemline stopping just short of her bust. The long dark blue sleeves hid the marred flesh of her arms and black gloves hid the raw flesh of her hands from sight. Her boots clicked against the stone walkway, the black and white pinstriped pattern settling well with her outfit.

She looked utterly mad as she followed behind the Queen, dancing away as she hummed the lullaby that sounded like _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat. _She then held out her hands in a mocking manner of the Queen and mimicked her walk, her head held up high as she glided behind the monarch. The White Queen seemed to notice but she said nothing, though an amused smile touched her lips.

The Hatter stared at the mad woman as they came to a stop in front of him, noticing that she looked a great deal happier than she had this morning. His mad gaze settled to the top of Helen's dark head and he took in a breath, trying to ignore the sudden pull he felt toward her. "You have a lovely head… so wonderfully round. I would very much like to hat it."

Helen smiled in reply, her dark eyes flicking between the Hatter and Chessur. "A hat for a cat? A hat for a bat? I thought I saw a bat but he had no hat… Neither did the cat."

The Hatter laughed in reply, his dizzying laugh that normally would have made a sane person cringe and walk the other way very quickly. "I can find the bat if you like; I doubt it would like to wear a hat though."

"And the cat?" asked Helen, her gaze traveling to Chessur and smiled at him. "A hat for the cat?"

"I will have to decline Mad Helen. I do not fair well with hats, though I have been taken with one in particular." Chessur's grin grew as he gazed with slight longing to the Hatter's tattered top hat before looking at Helen. He noticed that her madness had been as it had before their arrival to the castle. Terribly sweet and innocent, there were no shadows in her eyes now. It was as if she had forgotten whatever dark thoughts had plagued her from this morning.

The White Queen studied the look that past between the Hatter and Helen, the way that Helen seemed to be drawn to the Hatter. She was happy. From the moment the Queen had stated that they were to find the Hatter, Helen's entire demeanor had perked up with happiness. She felt safe with him…

"Tarrant, I do believe Helen would enjoy wearing one of your hats. I did not have any to give and she would look so much better with one." The Queen clasped her hands to her chest, a pleading look in her dark eyes.

The Hatter glanced at the Queen and gave a bow, his electric gaze quickly finding their way back to Helen. "It would be an honor, your Majesty."

"Wonderful." The Queen's smile grew as she took a step back and sighed. "Feel free to use all of the material in my dressing room. If you need anything specific, call upon Nivens, he will help you."

"A hatty for a batty," said Helen in response as she reached out to take hold of Hatter's bandaged hand. "Nevar more?"

"Nevar more?" The Hatter repeated the question, having been caught of guard by Helen's sudden closeness.

Chessur, who had been watching the entire interaction between the two, found himself grinning with understanding. He floated around the Hatter and moved behind Helen, feeling quite content to drape his tail around her neck as he had several times since their meeting. He rather enjoyed toying with her hair, the curls were so whimsy. "She means the raven, the one named Erom. That is what she calls it when she speaks of it, Nevar more."

The raven in question appeared in plume of grey black smoke on the branch that Chessur had vacated. It either seemed to know when it was being called or perhaps it never truly left their presence and just simply evaporated as Cheshire tended to do. Whatever its method, it was always there when someone spoke of it. It blinked in response and tilted its head, waiting to see what it was that they had wanted. Of course, with Helen now awake, whatever old spells that kept it bound did not allow it to speak. They all looked at the ebony bird, which had focused its attention on the woman that had called it.

"Little dream," Helen began, her cracking voice wavering slightly as a trace of fear could be seen in her eyes. "Shadow's call… No shadows?"

The bird seemed to understand what she asked because it shook its head in response and pointed a wing up to the sky, where the sun was shining brightly. Its reply wiped the fear from her eyes and she was smiling again, casting her dark eyes to the Hatter. "A hat for the bat?" She pulled on his hand, urging him back toward the castle. "Twinkle, twinkle, little dream…"

"I think she would like to try on your hats Tarrant," said Chessur as he floated away from Helen, who was becoming more insistent with her pulling. His grin had grown thoughtful as the Hatter allowed himself to be swept away by the mad woman, whose voice had begun to sing in a terrible off key tune of one of her rhymes. She had released his hand and was starting to dance around him, that skipping dance that always struck a cord within Chessur's memory.

The Hatter's dizzying laugh rose up as she began to mimic the Queen's gliding walk once again; her hands were arched perfectly up in the air, her slender fingers curled just the right way. The Queen could only smile in response as the two disappeared around the corner, a smile that the Chessur knew well. He floated closer to the Queen, his luminous green eyes moving to look at the raven, which had gone to fly off after the mad couple.

"That was an interesting choice in color your Majesty. I had no idea that you carried such clothing within your possession." He looked at his Queen, noting the uncomfortable look that appeared on her beautiful face.

"I did not either," said the Queen in reply. "Helen had found them buried in a chest in the back of the guest quarters. She seemed quite taken with them and they suit her well..."

"Who did they belong to?"

At this, the Queen's frown grew. It was something she had been trying to recall herself. They might have belonged to a relative, long gone now, or maybe they had belonged to one of the many guests that passed through over the years. She could not be entirely sure. It had bothered her that Helen had known where the chest had been hiding and what had been inside…

"I don't know," said the Queen, her dark rouged lips turned down slightly. "I feel as if I should but… I don't."

That sounded like a familiar tune the Cheshire cat knew all too well and it only added to the mystery that was Mad Helen. The cat's tail twitched in agitation as he looked around at the trees, looking for signs of something that would help them. Of course, the trees saw no reason to speak at the moment. They were enjoying the feel of the sun; it was a beautiful day after all.

"What did the Oraculum say of this day?" He looked back at the Queen, hoping her response would be positive though he knew better.

The Queen took in a breath and shook her head. "Nothing. The Oraculum says nothing of her or her raven. It's as if they don't exist."

Of course, what else was there to expect? The path they had walked so far had been unknown territory. There was something happening and they had no idea what. Maybe that was why the cat was so curious. When had he last felt this curiosity for something that did not involve him?

_Ah, but it does. It does involve you and you wish to know… That is why you continue to follow her… _

The little nagging voice in the back of his mind spoke the truth of course. He wished it didn't and he would rather not heed it right now. He purred rather loudly to ignore the sound of his own thoughts, wondering if he should just leave and head back to Tulgey Wood. The woman was safe with the White Queen; whatever it was that was involved with her did not require any of his help.

"Chessur," said the White Queen, looking up at the cat with a gentle smile on her face, as if she had been reading his thoughts. "I need your help to find Helen's shadow. I believe it is somewhere here in Underland and we might have a good chance of locating it." She caught his questioning gaze and her smile grew into a grin that rivaled his own. "I need someone with evaporating skills in order to make this work and you are the most talented in all of Witzend…"

The cat looked skeptical but he could not ignore a request from his Queen and he always took well to compliments. His tail swayed from side to side ad his grin grew, his deep voice ever seductive in its feline way. "Tell me what I must do and it will be done…"

The Queen gathered her silvery skirts and gave a nod in gratitude. She knew Chessur well enough and the fact that he was willing to help a perfect stranger spoke measures. He usually avoided doing anything that did not involve him on a personal level. Maybe this entire business with Helen was personal to him in some way.

"Come with me, we must work quickly while they are away." She turned on heel and walked up the pathway, her gliding steps ever graceful. Chessur followed behind her, noting that Helen did have an uncanny way of mimicking Queen Mirana's movements. His grin grew mischievous at the thought and he chuckled to himself as they rounded the corner.


	9. Chapter 9

(A/n) Thank you everyone for reading and thank you for all of the kindness you have shown so far.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

.oOo.

"_I used to dream of many things while sitting by the bay,_

_Of ships and kings and ceiling wax,_

_Cabbages and hay,_

_The sun would rise up from the east, chasing my dreams away_

_Shining a light upon a road that led to Bayar Malay…"_

_.oOo._

The White Queen's dressing room consisted of more than just one room. Thery were a series of rooms dedicated to various types of outfits and accessories the Queen fancied. The main room itself was circular with mirrors placed carefully upon the walls to allow the Queen to study herself from all angles. There were several doors that led into smaller, different rooms that were dedicated to shoes, gowns, nightclothes, etc.

McTwisp led the Hatter and Helen through the mirror room and through a door that led into a room dedicated to the Queen's hats. It was somewhat eerie to walk through the mirror room and find only his reflection looking back at him. He had been tempted to glance back to see if Helen was still there but he could hear her off tune singing, a new little rhyme that made little sense as always.

The White Rabbit had stopped just short of the threshold to the hat room and turned around to glance up at the Hatter. "Here you are Tarrant, the hat room. There are several errands that I must attend to so I cannot linger. If there is anything you need, please ask it of me now."

"Tick, tock, goes the clock," said Helen in response to McTwisp's comment. The Hatter and the rabbit glanced back at the woman, who stood there smiling at them. The raven had chosen to follow them for some odd reason and was currently perched on her shoulder. It tilted its head as it stared at the Hatter, its dark eye studying the Hatter with its usual look of curiosity.

"I would like some material the same shade of blue as what Helen is wearing," said the Hatter, looking away from the raven and glancing down at the White Rabbit. "Same shade… Such a deep blue, like night…" he trailed off, his lime green eyes starting to look past the rabbit while a dazed smile appeared on his lips. He was imagining the different types of hats he could create just from that shade of blue alone. He couldn't help but think of a night sky. Something that bore semi- precious white stones strewn across the fabric, like the stars…

"Snicker snack," said Helen as she looked around the hat room, a gloved hand reaching up to rub against the marred flesh of the right side of her face. "Time…"

McTwisp seemed a bit taken aback by the nonsense streaming from Helen's lips and his snowy white ears twitched in response. His ruby eyes glanced up at the Hatter, slight confusion flickering across them. It was obvious that Helen's madness was strange even to McTwisp, who should have been used to the company of one such as the Hatter and the Hare. The Hatter supposed that the dear rabbit was looking for some sense in the maddening rhymes that she spoke but the Hatter could only smile and wave McTwisp along. "I will need that fabric, quickly now McTwisp."

The White Rabbit gave a quick nod and, carefully edging past the mad woman, he scampered off in his usual hurried manner. The Hatter turned to Helen, his smile growing as he studied the top of her dark curls. His green eyes traveled down, noting the marred flesh and felt a slight tug at his heart. There was something about her face, something about that olive toned skinned that reminded him of the feeling of that dream.

The smile had faded from dear Helen's face and she moved closer to the Hatter, her dark eyes studying his electric green eyes. "Hat Maker," her voice had grown husky, a soft and seductive tone that he had not been expecting. "Moon… March… Muchness… Memories…"

A gloved hand reached out to brush against the pale flesh of his cheek before moving up to the brim of his hat, her husky voice dropping to an inaudible whisper as she murmured words that he could not understand. Her dark eyes had glazed over, seeing whatever dark memories that played through her mad mind. The Hatter noticed the far off look and quickly took her hand, jerking her out of her trance. She gasped and focused on his face, her dark eyes flicking between his own. "How, now?"

He lowered her hand away from his hat and gently released it, a light frown touching his face. "Consider the letter M," he said before he took in a breath, those words she had whispered striking a cord with him. It had something to do with his dream, he just knew it. He wished he could remember what it had been about. "Do you speak the truth Helen? Always?" he asked, his voice dropping down to that guttural growl of his native accent, his green eyes locking with hers as he studied the sad look on her face.

"Always try," she replied, the clarity appearing in her dark eyes. "I think of it before speaking… Haven't been able to write it down…" She closed her eyes and lifted a gloved hand to hide the burnt side of her face. "Don't forget… The fire burns…"

A muscle ticked in his in jaw, the pale flesh twitching slightly as he sighed. "Let us get started on your hat…" he said, the frown on his face growing troubled as he walked further into the hat room.

.oOo.

"You were with Erom for much of the night. Did it say anything to you about Helen? Anything worth mentioning?"

The Queen was gliding her way down a well lit corridor that rested beneath the castle. Where there should have been dungeons there were only storage areas. Chessur floated along behind her, studying the intricate doors they passed and noting how the Queen dismissed them with barely a glance. The door they were heading toward rested at the end of this corridor.

"The raven said that our dear Helen was not a true Upperlander but that she hailed from the Outland." The cat saw the interest that flickered past the Queen's ivory features and his own ears perked up. "It had been searching for Helen for some reason it could not say. It managed to let loose that she was a missing someone or another before it was quickly silenced by its binding spells."

"An Outlander…" The Queen said nothing more as she glided to a stop in front of the last door in the corridor. Unlike the rest of the doors, which were intricately carved with designs from slabs of stained and highly polished wood, this particular door appeared to have been forgotten. The wood was old and faded and no design graced its plane visage. The Queen removed a ring a keys that she had hidden beneath her skirts and pulled out an old, bronze key that looked as rusted as the hinges on the door. She placed the key in the lock and turned it, the old door putting up a fight before turning completely.

"What is this room, your Majesty?" Chessur asked in curiosity as the Queen opened the old door, the hinges screaming in protest.

The Queen let out a breath as she reached out to grab hold of an old torch that rested by the door. She moved to light it on one of the torches in the corridor and moved back toward the door. "It's a storage area kept specifically for confiscated items used for the dark arts." She moved into the room and looked around, her dark eyes searching the shadowed corners. The cat followed after her, his luminous green eyes catching sight of the many shelves of dusty and covered items. The Queen had moved toward the back of the room, being careful to aim her torch away from items.

"And what are you looking for?" The cat paused with interest, catching sight of what appeared to be a wooden jewelry box covered in odd markings. He glanced at the Queen's retreating back, his tail flicking with subdued excitement, before looking at the box.

"A particular mirror… It reveals things that cannot be seen by normal eyes…" The Queen glanced back at the cat and smiled. "I wouldn't touch that… Unless you would like to lose your life."

Chessur stopped in surprise, his claws hovering just above the lid of the box. He looked at the Queen and his grin grew, though he pulled his paw away. "What is in it?"

"I couldn't tell you for sure." The Queen looked away and continued her way down the aisle, her eyes searching. "The only people who can tell you are dead…" A strange smile touched her dark rouged lips, as if the thought of what lay in that forbidden box struck a cord with her. She glided her way to a darker corner, her torch held higher as she looked. "Ah hah!" Her smile was one of triumph this time as she found a floor length, oval mirror, covered by a brown cloth. "Here we are…"

"What is that?" Chessur floated over to the Queen, his grin growing with interest. The Queen glanced back at the cat and her smile fell to that strange one from before. She seemed oddly interested in these items. This was the first time that Chessur had ever seen his queen look excited.

"That, my dear Cheshire cat, is what we will need to find Helen's shadow…"

.oOo.

By the time McTwisp had arrived with the satin that was the same shade of blue as Helen's outfit, the Hatter had already created several hats from different materials sitting in the Queen's room. They were shades of lighter blue and white. One was a cloche hat, a bell shaped hat that was white with a dark blue band around it. It didn't look well with Helen's features. The next was white as well but bore a dark blue ribbon trailing over the back of the brim, the top of the hat being short and indented. That didn't look well either. He tried a few more before sighing in exasperation. None of these looked well on her,. What was he missing aside from having that exact shade of blue?

He had taken off his top hat and set it on the seat he had vacated. Helen was sitting across from him in another chair, watching him. Since she had no reflection, he could not ask her about what she thought she liked. She could not see herself and she was speaking in senseless rhymes now that her madness had returned.

"Tarrant?" The White Rabbit had appeared in the doorway then, holding the dark blue fabric the Hatter had been waiting for.

"Ah! McTwisp!" The Hatter turned toward the rabbit and strode over to him in several steps, reaching out to snatch the satin from his paws. "Just what I was waiting for! Now I can make… make…" He frowned, his electric gaze studying the rabbit as McTwisp stared up at the Hatter with anxious ruby eyes. "What will I make?"

"Hat for a bat?" Helen's cracking voice breaking through the awkward silence. The Hatter and the White Rabbit glanced at the mad woman. She was smiling at them as she held up the tattered top hat that belonged to the Hatter. She placed it firmly on her dark curls and tilted it in a jaunty way, the pink ribbons clashing horribly with the dark blue of her high necked jacket.

The Hatter stared at Helen, studying the sight of his hat sitting so casually upon her head as if it had always been hers. A smile touched his lips as inspiration struck, his bandaged and orange stained fingers toying with the dark blue satin that he held. "Ah! That's it… Like the night sky…"

He turned away from the rabbit and walked back into the room, his mad gaze studying the material he had left over. There was a lovely white ribbon that was resting on a pile discarded fabrics on a table, there was a black bow that would do rather nicely… He looked around, searching until he caught sight of Erom perched on the edge of a chair. His smile turned into an evil grin as he studied the dark, glossy feathers of the raven. Before the raven could even move, the Hatter had pounced on him and snatched a couple of its tail feathers. The ebony bird let out an angry squawk as it flapped it wings and flew to the other side of the room, his tail now devoid of two beautiful feathers. Helen let loose a giggle at the antics of the Hatter, her dark eyes studying the raven as it fluffed up in annoyance.

"Terribly sorry but these will be put to good use, I assure you," said the Hatter as he turned toward the table, placing the ebony feathers down with the dark blue satin. Yes, this just might work…

"Tick, tock, goes the clock…" said Helen, glancing over at the McTwisp and tapping the brim of the tattered, top hat. The rabbit stared at the mad woman, completely confused by what he had witnessed. He reached in his waist coat and pulled out his pocket watch, noting the time.

"Agh! I'm late!" The rabbit cried and with that he was gone, his fluffy white tail disappearing around the corner of the door.

The Hatter didn't notice the rabbit's departure, his mad gaze was focused on his task as his hands worked away at the sewing machine that rested in front of him. The vision was so clear in his mind's eye. The perfect hat for Mad Helen…

.oOo.

The sun had disappeared beyond the western horizon and the covered mirror that the Queen had needed had been placed in Helen's room by some of the trusted staff employed at the castle. It was facing east, toward where the sun normally rose, however it remained covered. The Queen was hesitant to remove the cover just yet, waiting for the Hatter and Helen to appear in the room.

She had set up a magic circle around the mirror, dotted with flickering tea candles that provided a mystical light. She muttered incantations that she knew by heart, words that were so ancient that the Cheshire cat had no idea what she was saying. After the last candle was lit, the Queen flipped back her silvery locks and turned her dark eyes toward him. "Chessur, look to the window and tell me if you see anything beyond the walls of this castle."

The cat was confused at first but did as she asked, turning away from her and floating to one of the many windows in Helen's room. He stared past the paned glass, his luminous eyes studying the trees that lay beyond the walls. His tail flicked once around himself and he faded from view, though he remained by the window. In this evaporated state, there were things that he could see that he could not see while visible. The walls that surrounded the castle, the glass of the window, and even the wall on either side of the window were mere shadows. The world could best be described as taking on a distinct grey-bluish tint, strange and magnificent colors that could not be seen by the normal eyes. In this vision, he could see the silhouettes of humanoid figures lingering amongst the trees. They each held what appeared to be spears or swords, their forms wavering like flames beneath a breeze. They were darker than any shadow that rested in Underland and their eyes were shining a terrible ice blue light.

At the sight of them, the cat immediately appeared in the normal world, his grin completely gone from his blue streaked face. "There are shadows out there. Creatures! I have no idea how to describe them."

The White Queen's ivory features were set in a deep frown, her gliding steps leading her to the window. She stopped beside the cat, her dark eyes searching the shadowed trees beyond her castle's walls. She could see nothing out of the norm but she could sense that something was there, waiting. "I feared as much. It seems that you were correct in the matter that Helen was being watched. The knights have not noticed anything strange just yet so they must be a fair distance away from the gates." She turned away from the window and held out her hands, the graceful fingers looking a tad tense. She glided her way back to the covered mirror, her skirts swishing gently. "We must hurry and summon Helen here. Tarrant must be done-"

The door to Helen's room opened at that moment and the Hatter walked in, a skipping Helen following in behind him. The Cheshire cat found himself grinning at the sight of Helen, her new hat set at a jaunty angle on her dark head. She was wearing a more feminine version of Tarrant's top hat. It was made of the same dark blue material as her high necked jacket. A white ribbon wrapped around the top while a black bow sat on the right hand side of the hat. The ends of the black bow trailed over the brim of the hat and stopped just above Helen's ear. Two long ebony feathers rose up from where the bow was tied; adding to the strange charm that held Helen's marred features.

The Queen was taken by surprise at the sight of Helen's new hat and a flicker of something crossed her features. She studied Helen's completed look, a feeling of déjà vu touching her. Those clothes… She knew this look… Who had worn such an outfit as this? She wracked her brain trying to find the answer but came up with nothing. The Hatter had noticed the troubled look on the Queen's face and he stopped before her and bowed. Helen dropped into a rather graceful curtsy behind him, the dark feathers swaying from the movement.

"Your Majesty?" The Hatter straightened from his bow, his electric gaze studying the Queen with concern.

The Queen blinked twice and looked away from Helen, who was now standing completely still and staring out the windows to the quiet evening sky. "I am sorry Tarrant. I had a bit of a daze…" She fanned herself and glanced at the Hatter. "That is an interesting choice for Helen."

The Hatter glanced at the mad woman, who had moved to the window Chessur was floating in front of. She placed her gloved hands against the paned glass, her dark eyes seeing things that could not be seen. "Shadows…" Her voice cracked as slight fear rose up in her. "Shadow's play… Keep the shadows away."

"Nothing else suited her, your Majesty," said the Hatter in reply, his green eyes studying Helen as she began to sway from side to side, humming the lullaby that was like _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat_. She was staring intently through the glass, her dark eyes moving from side to side as she searched. The Queen looked back at Helen and turned, gliding over towards her to wrap an arm around the other woman's shoulders. Helen jumped in surprise and looked at the Queen, her dark eyes questioning.

"Come Helen," said the Queen, gently steering her away from the window. "We must find your shadow." She led the mad woman toward the mirror and placed her in front of it within the circle. Helen stared at the brown cloth that covered the mirror, her eyes growing wide with fear. She tried to back away, her body beginning to tremble.

"He stole my reflection," said Helen, looking at the Queen before her eyes searched the room. "Nevar more?"

The raven appeared on the Queen's shoulder at that moment and leaned forward, its dark eyes studying the cloth. It looked at the Queen and gave a nod, affirming what the Queen had suspected. This mirror would help in finding Helen's shadow but from the terrified expression on the woman's face, it would be a difficult task. She feared mirrors, feared mirrors that were more than just mirrors. They were gateways to another world, a world where the barriers between realities blurred. She knew that world and wanted nothing of it…

A bandaged hand had wrapped around her gloved one and she looked at the Hatter, who stood on her other side. The Queen released her hold on the woman and backed away as the Hatter gave Helen a reassuring nod. "It will be all right Helen. Nothing will harm you, I won't allow it."

She let loose a shaking sigh, her tense form beginning to relax as she kept her gaze on the Hatter. That was right, he was here… The shadows would not harm her now that he was here… She had felt so safe with him in that room with all of the mirrors, nothing had happened there. This would be the same. She intertwined her fingers with his and held on to him for dear life. She leaned in close and rested her head against his shoulder, her hat bumping against his cheek and sliding over her dark hair.

He stiffened at the closeness but began to relax, ignoring the sudden thump of his heart at her closeness. He looked at the Queen and gave a nod, indicating that she was free to start whatever it was that she needed to. The Queen smiled at the two of them before turning and gliding her way to the side of the mirror.

"This mirror will help us to find Helen's shadow; it will reveal to us the truth of its whereabouts. Hopefully, we might be able to summon it here." The Queen pulled the cloth off and the mirror was revealed. The glass was shadowed, the roman numerals of a clock embossed around the surface. The numbers were embossed in a way that made them look backwards, as if it was the reflection of a clock face.

The Cheshire cat had floated his way over to the Hatter's side, his luminous eyes sparkling with interest. The mirror was swirling with dark gray smoke and it moved in a counter clockwise fashion. The roman numerals began to glow a deep blue in color, counting down from twelve and all the way to one. At that moment, the mirror flashed and the smoke receded from the mirror, revealing the form of a young girl's shadow.

It stood where Helen did though it was but a mere shadow, the tiny height of the shadow was not what the Queen had been expecting. Before anyone could say anything the small shadow took a step forward and then another, stepping through the glass and onto the marble floor. Everyone grew tense, not expecting the shadow to actually step from the mirror. The shadow was very faint, not looking anything the way a proper shadow should. It seemed weak as well as it turned its head to look at the Queen. It had no features like a human should and yet the faint silhouette bore a familiar shape to what would have been hair on its owner.

"_Hat Maker…" _The voice that issued from the shadow as it looked at the Hatte was but a whisper, the sound of such one who was deeply sad. "_Hat Maker… Help to find us three so that we may be one… Maiden, Woman and Crone…_" The shadow looked at Helen then and raised its hand. "_I've searched for you… Years have I searched…I am all that is left of you… I cannot remember who we are anymore…I cannot remember where the rest of us has gone. He stole our reflection and cast us through the looking-glass. It shattered and your shadow had shattered with it…" _It let out such a sad sigh as it took a step toward Helen, reaching in earnest. "_I want to come home now… I want to be home…"_

The others could only watch this strange scene as Helen pulled herself away from the Hatter. She released his hand and moved closer to the very faint shadow of the girl, her gloved hand reaching out toward the shadow's.

"I used to dream of many things while sitting by the bay…_" _Helen began to sing her new rhyme, her cracked voice wavering. "Of ships and kings and ceiling wax, cabbages and hay." The shadow's small fingers intertwined with Helen's larger hand and they clasped, gripping firmly. "The sun would rise up from the east, chasing my dreams away." A bright flash erupted from the contact, a blinding light that made the others close their eyes. "Shining a light upon a road that led to Bayar Malay…"

When the light subsided and it was safe to look, Helen stood there in front of the mirror, staring at her gloved hands. The mirror was quiet now, no longer revealing swirling gray smoke but darkness, an occasional plume drifting across its surface. The Hatter took a careful step toward Helen, his bright green eyes studying her as confusion settled within him. What had that been? Why did it speak to him first? It had told him to find three, Maiden, Woman and Crone. To be made as one? Was that shadow supposed to represent something? Was it really a part of Helen?

The last question was answered when he caught sight of a very faint shadow beneath her. It was hard to see beneath the light but it was there. It was smaller than Helen but it mimicked her movements perfectly. She was studying it with awe in her dark eyes and she looked up at the Hatter, a small smile forming on her lips. "My shadow…"

A terrified squawk broke the awed silence as Erom disappeared from the Queen's shoulder and reappeared on top of the mirror. It flapped its wings, pointing within the glass. Everyone looked at the mirror, catching several pair of glowing, ice blue eyes that were making their way through the darkness, staring straight at them. Helen let out a cry and rushed forward, grabbing the brown cloth and flung it on a corner of the mirror. The raven had took to the air and tried to help move the cloth over the mirror.

"Those creatures will come through the mirror," Chessur said, his grin fading from sight as his fur bristled. "Tarrant, help Helen to cover the mirror before they get through the glass!"

The Hatter did not need telling twice and he rushed to Helen's side, taking the cloth from her and pulling it over in one swift movement. The cloth fluttered once and then lay still, the mirror no longer seeing. A sigh of relief escaped Helen's lips, her shoulders slumping. "Keep shadows away…"

The White Queen had placed a graceful hand upon her chest and she cast a fearful glance to the windows before looking at Helen. "I have no idea what is happening but I fear that this is only the beginning."

"What do we do in the mean time?" The Hatter asked, flicking his green eyes to Helen as she began tying the corners of the brown cloth at the foot of the mirror. The Queen was about to respond but a cracking voice answered with a clarity that startled nearly everyone present.

"Must go east to the fertile land of Queast… Follow the shining road to Bayar Malay... Must meet the Queen of Summer within that village by the bay." All eyes glanced at Helen, who had risen to her feet and brushed the dust from her dark blue slacks. She straightened her top hat and glanced at the Queen, her dark eyes looking somewhat clear of their usual madness. "To go by train. We must jump over the brooks and pass the eighth square."

It took a moment but a look of realization flickered past the Queen's ivory features. "Alyiona…" The Queen muttered in surprise, her gaze leaving Helen's and meeting the Hatter's questioning one. Who in the world was Alyiona?

The White Queen nodded to herself, looking more at ease than she had since the whole ordeal with the mirror started. "Alyiona of Bayar Malay, the Yellow Queen of Clubs..." She gathered her skirts as she moved past the group, completely forgetting herself as she rushed to the door and opened it. She disappeared in a flurry of white ad silver, not waiting for the others.

The Hatter stared at the open doorway in faint surprise, never once had he ever seen his queen run like that. The raven and the Cheshire cat had gone to follow after the Queen in her haste, hoping to catch up with her. Helen was about to follow when the Hatter reached out to grab her gloved hand. She turned in surprise, her dark eyes flicking between his electric green.

The Hatter searched those dark orbs but he saw the clarity slowly seeping back into the madness that was hers. He pulled her closer, his hold on her hand growing firm. "A piece of you has been returned. Are you as you were before?"

Helen blinked before a small smile appeared on her lips, her marred cheek lifting her eye so that it looked almond shaped. "I need a codfish to write what has happened thus far but you had left it at home. Perhaps a salmon might do? Have you one in that lovely hat you wear?"

The Hatter could only stare before he suddenly started to laugh, a mixture of madness and amusement that had Helen's smile growing. She giggled with him and started to pull on his hand, leading him away from the mirror. "Come, we must find some sugar for the party. I haven't washed my hands today and I feel so naughty."

The Hatter allowed himself to be led out of the room as his mad laughter filled the corridor, Helen's giggles joining his. She was still as she was, completely and utterly mad beyond reason. Despite all of the strangeness that was going on and the strangeness he had just been witness to; he could not help but be relieved that Helen retained her madness. He found that he liked that side of her best…


	10. Chapter 10

_(A/n) Thank you all so much for the feedback, it helps to keep me motivated._

_The excerpt of the poem below is written by Edgar Allen Poe, A Dream within a Dream I believe is the title. It inspired me while I was writing and felt it should be a part of the chapter. Thanks again everyone._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

.oOo.

"_Take this kiss upon the brow,_

_And, in parting from you now,  
><em>

_Thus much let me avow-  
><em>

_You are not wrong, who deem  
><em>

_That my days have been a dream;  
><em>

_Yet if hope has flown away  
><em>

_In a night, or in a day,  
><em>

_In a vision, or in none,  
><em>

_Is it therefore the less gone?  
><em>

_All that we see or seem  
><em>

_Is but a dream within a dream…_"

.oOo.

The White Queen had let the way to the castle library and she opened one of the intricately carved double doors, her dark eyes already scanning the nearby shelves. She appeared to be searching for something but no one felt brave enough to ask her what it was. She had an intense look of concentration on her face as she searched the bookcases to the right of the doors. She glided her way up the aisle until she spotted a maroon leather book on the shelf half way up the last case. She stopped, the Hatter, Helen, the cat and raven, stopping behind her. She reached up to grab the book and pulled it down, her slender fingers running over the cover that bore the symbol of a four sided diamond.

The others didn't say a word, save for Helen, who was whispering a rather chilling rhyme about a dream within a dream. She was leaning against the Hatter, her arms encircled around his left one. He was finding it hard to concentrate on what the White Queen was doing, not when dear Helen was so close to him. Her whispering was sending chills along his skin, a sensation that was both pleasing and irritating. He managed to glance down at her, catching the sight of her lips moving as she whispered her rhyme. The brim of her dark blue top hat hid her eyes from view and the Hatter wanted very much to see those dark orbs.

"Here we are," said the Queen, who had opened the book towards the middle of the thick volume. She had placed her finger on the page as she glided her way past the group toward one of the several elegant, white reading tables that rested in the middle of the library. She set the book down and tapped her finger on the page. "This is the record for the royal families of Underland."

The others had gathered round the table and leaned over to get a better look at the open page. On the page, there was a symbol of a three leaf clover, normally called a club in a deck of cards. There were sketches of various men and women within in the book as well as their names. Toward the bottom of the page was a final entry, a sketching of a pretty woman with the name written in elegant script: _Alyiona of Bayar Malay, Yellow Queen of Clubs._

"Alyiona governs the land of Queast." The Queen frowned lightly, a thoughtful look appearing in her dark eyes. "I cannot believe I had forgotten about her… With all of trouble that Iracabeth had caused over the years, I did not think to look up my only cousin."

"I have not heard of this Queen of Clubs before." The Hatter studied the sketching of the Queen's cousin and then looked at her in question, shadows appearing beneath his electric eyes. "Where was she during those dark times? Why did she not help us?" His voice had dropped down to his native burr, his temper rising slightly. There had been a queen in Queast, a queen who could have helped the White Queen regain her crown. All those lives that could have been saved…

"The Queen of Summer renounces her throne…" said Helen in a sing-song voice that cracked terribly, her hold on his arm tightening as she rubbed her marred cheek against his sleeve. The shadows were instantly gone from beneath his eyes as he looked down in surprise. Helen was staring up at him and she was smiling as leaned in closer. The closeness of her and the sight of those dark eyes helped to stem the flow of his temper. He could only watch her as she looked away, her smile fading slightly as she nodded to the book. "The Lion and the Unicorn do fight for the crown…"

"Alyiona, she is-" The Queen paused, trying to find the right words to describe her cousin from Queast. "She felt it was never her place to become a monarch. Though she is the Yellow Queen, and continues to be so, she has never recognized her title. Since she does not take the title of queen, there are skirmishes going on in Queast over who should govern the land." She looked at Helen, who had gone on humming in her off tune way. It was eerie how much Helen knew of Underland. She may have been mad but she was very aware. Now that she had gained a piece of her shadow back, she was becoming clearer in her riddles. It was true that the Yellow Queen had renounced her throne and because of that, the land of Queast was not as peaceful as the majority of Underland had been led to believe.

"These skirmishes have been going on since before Horunvendush Day." The Queen studied the sketch of her cousin and heaved a gentle sigh. "She could not have helped us when her own people were so divided."

"Why does she not simply regain her throne?" asked Chessur , his luminous green eyes lighting with curiosity. He had heard of the skirmishes going on in Queast but he had not thought it was because of their very own monarch renouncing her throne.

The White Queen looked at the cat and shook her head, a sad smile playing on her dark rouged lips. "I could not tell you Chessur. Whatever her reasons are, she would be the only one to explain them properly." She turned her gaze to the mad couple who stood next to her, noting how close Helen was to the Hatter and how the Hatter had such a look of concern on his pale face as he studied her. She could not help but smile at the sight of them; they seemed to compliment each other well for some odd reason. She couldn't help but envy the open affection that Helen bore for Tarrant.

She glanced down at the book and ran her fingers over the page of her relatives, sighing softly. "Unlike myself, Alyiona never swore to never harm any living thing. She would have a more intimate knowledge of exactly how Helen had been split." She paused at this and looked back at Chessur. "I do believe she might be able to help Helen. If her shadow had been shattered as it said it had, than Alyiona would know where to locate the other pieces."

"Well then, it seems that our next destination would be to Queast." Chessur let loose a huge yawn, his fur rippling as he stretched. "I, for one, could do well with a good night's sleep. I fear this journey will not be a pleasant one, considering what is waiting for us outside these walls."

At the sound of Chessur's inclusion, the Hatter glanced up at his old friend in surprise, his lime green eyes studying the cat as if he had never seen him before. "Our journey?" He was trying his best to ignore the sudden thump of his heartbeat. Helen's nearness was not helping him concentrate on the conversation at hand, not when she was continuously rubbing her cheek against his arm. He didn't mind the closeness to be honest, he was enjoying the attention just a bit too much for his own good though. He swallowed back the lump that had formed in his throat as he focused his attention on Chessur. "You mean to come with us?"

Chessur gave the Hatter a very sly grin in response, his luminous eyes flicking toward Helen, who was now leaning against the Hatter as quiet as a mouse. Her eyes were closed and, were it not for the slight movements of her lips indicating she was murmuring to herself, one would have thought she had fallen asleep. "I don't feel comfortable with the thought of you journeying alone with our Helen. With those shadow creatures following her, I doubt you'll fair well against them. You have such poor evaporating skills after all…" He flicked his tail and rolled onto his back, his grin growing. "Besides, it is very improper to leave such a lovely young woman alone with one such as yourself Tarrant. She should not be without a chaperone."

A faint touch of a shadow appeared beneath the Hatter's eyes, a hint of red turning his green eyes a faint shade of orange. He understood what the cat had implied and he didn't like the thought. What did the Cheshire cat think he would do? Ravish the Mad Helen? He would never consider it, he may have been half mad himself but he was still a gentleman. He had been raised to be a proper gentleman of the court after all.

Before the Hatter could come back with reply that would have set the cat's thoughts straight, dear Helen broke through the awkwardness with her usual madness. "A dream, a dream, my slippers for a dream…"All eyes settled on her as her head began to droop; her smaller, very faint shadow following her move. "Why travel by horse? We must go by rail though a hat is quickest… Has anyone seen my pillow? It flew out the window before I could give it a bath…"

A choking sound followed after this statement and everyone looked to find that the White Queen was trying in vain to hold down her giggles. The Hatter smiled at that as the Queen closed the book and picked it up.

"I think we should have dinner and then retire for the evening. It has been a very trying day for us all." Her voice was thick with mirth, her dark eyes sparkling with silent laughter. Helen had continued to complain about her pillow flying loose about the castle and it being so terribly naughty for missing its bath. "We'll discuss your plans for travel in the morning. It is a long journey to Bayar Malay-"

"Avast! My pillow has been caught by the sheets… Naughty, naughty sheets…"

A very unladylike snort escaped the Queen this time and she clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle the noise. The Hatter was laughing by this time, a laugh of pure amusement, as he noted how much in vain the White Queen fought her laughter. The Cheshire cat grinned more so than usual while the raven, who had watched the entire exchange with wide eyes, could only shake its head. Whatever the reasons for her madness, Helen had brought Mirana of Marmoreal to laughter, which was a wonderful thing indeed…

.oOo.

Dinner had been a wonderfully mad and amusing affair that night. Helen had somehow mistaken a fork for a comb and had turned to the Hatter, who sat beside her. She had then proceeded to comb the Hatter's mad orange locks with it and managed to get it tangled in the frazzled waves. It took some time but she had gotten it loose, much to the disappointment of Chessur, who had been howling with laughter the entire time. The Queen did not fair any better and had to excuse herself from the table, though she looked close to breaking down in laughter at any moment.

The Hatter, who had not been amused as his old friend, had taken the cutlery from Helen's place at the table and moved it away from her. He thought he may have been seeing things but he could have sworn that he saw Helen laughing at him from the corner of his eye. However, when he glanced at her, she was staring straight ahead and singing to herself in that terrible off key voice. He knew that he was mad but he wasn't mad enough to be seeing things…

All in all, it had been a surprisingly funny end to a strange day. While Helen and the Hatter had gone to retire for the evening, Chessur had gone on to search for the Queen. He found her in the library, sitting at one of the tables. She was looking over the maroon book that bore her family tree. She had such a look of concentration on her face as she flipped a certain page back and forth. She had two other books lying on beside her arm, a dark blue book that Chessur did not like the sight of, and a smaller, black book that bore the symbol of a spade.

"Your Majesty?"

The Queen glanced up in surprise, her dark eyes searching and finding the cat floating beside a bookcase to her left. She sighed heavily and beckoned the cat closer, her dark eyes falling back down to the open book. "There is something wrong here Chessur." She pointed to the page she was reading and pointed to the next page. Chessur floated closer to the Queen, looking over her shoulder as she ran her finger down the next page.

"Something is missing. I'm sure of it. My great grandmother had several children, my great uncles…" She flipped the pages back and pointed to the sketch of a rather sappy looking man with a beard. "The Old Red King of Hearts, he didn't have any children of his own so he had named one of my uncles as an heir." She flipped the page back again and tapped on another sketch, this one of a man who had a rather round, jolly face. "The Old Yellow King of Clubs, Alyiona's grandfather." She moved back to the page she had been studying and tapped on the picture of a kind man who bore a large mustache. "My grandfather, the Old White King of Diamonds…" She moved to the next page and shook her head, confusion evident on her ivory features. "There is supposed to be more to the family but there is nothing. It just goes on about the rest of the line of the White kings and queens." She looked up at Chessur and shook her head. "There is a family line missing somewhere. I just can't recall which one it was…"

Chessur's grin faded slightly as he studied the pages and then looked at the Queen. "Do you think it might have something to do with Helen and her raven?"

The Queen closed the book and looked at the other two books, her frown growing deep. "I'm not sure… Perhaps but I cannot say." She took in a breath and closed her eyes. "It is beyond my skills. There is something happening but it feels like something else is blocking the path toward the answers…"

Chessur did not respond to that, he stared at the dark book that bore the silver spade, his luminous eyes growing thoughtful. So the Queen could feel it as well, the familiarity that Helen had brought about reached deeper than a sense of déjà vu. There was something deliberate happening and Helen was the key to unraveling the mystery.

.oOo.

_Flowing, bright red waves…_

"_Tarrant…"_

_A pair of pleading green eyes…_

"_Tarrant…"_

_Fire burning brighter and brighter against the shadows of the night…_

_Screams filling the air and a pair of hands reaching out to nothing…_

"_You've forgotten… please remember… Muchness…"_

The Hatter awoke in the middle of the night, his room dark with shadows though moonlight streamed in through the large windows. It was that dream again, that dream of fire and the letter M… Why could he not remember all of it when he awoke?

He ran a hand over his face as he sat up, tossing the blankets aside. He had slept in only his pants this time; it was far more comfortable than his full clothing. They were to be traveling to Queast in the morning and it wouldn't do to have wrinkled clothing…

Why _was _he having these strange dreams?

His bare feet settled on the cold marble tile, his mad green gaze studying the pale flesh beneath the moonlight. His form was athletically slim, the taunt muscles of his arms and chest often hidden beneath his clothing. The dusting of pale red curls on the center of his chest added to the masculine allure. One would not have thought such a form would be on one such as the Hatter. Alas, not many had known of the dear Hatter's upbringing in the wild hills of Witzend as a proud member of the Hightopp clan. He had been more than a hatter; he had been trained to be a warrior as well, once upon a forgotten time…

_Tap, tap, tap…_

The Hatter glanced up at the sound that echoed through the silence. He looked at the windows, thinking something was tapping against the glass. There was nothing but moonlight and the shadows of trees.

_Tap, tap, tap…_

His wandering eyes caught the sight of Erom, the raven, perched on the headboard of his bed. It was watching him with a single dark eye, its ebony feathers as smooth as silk. The Hatter's electric eyes studied the bird, figuring that it was the one who was making the tapping noise. "Oh, it's you," he said, his gaze dropping back down to the floor. "I'm afraid I'm not one for good company at the moment. You might want to find Chessur…"

_Tap, tap, tap…_

The Hatter glanced up, thinking that the bird had wanted to say something to him. Helen should have been asleep by now; it could speak when she was asleep. The raven said nothing though and the Hatter noticed that it was not the one _tap, tap, tapping_. The tapping was coming from his bedroom door. The raven continued to study the Hatter before glancing at the door, obviously knowing who it was that was knocking.

Throwing a confused glance to Erom, the Hatter got to his feet and walked to the door, his feet slapping against the cold tiles. He placed a bandaged hand upon the wood, his stained fingers looking dark in the moonlight. Who could be calling this late at night? He waited, listening, but he could hear nothing out in the corridor. The tapping sounded again, a gentle tap of knuckles against wood.

Confusion welling within him, he placed his hand upon the door handle and turned it. He opened the door a crack and looked out, thinking that there would be no one there. Chessur was never one for sleeping so late at night and was fond of causing mischief. It wouldn't have surprised him if the cat's wide grin would be seen floating somewhere along the ceiling.

What greeted him was not a floating grin but Helen, standing all alone in the torch lit corridor in nothing more than a white robe and nightgown. The pure white of her gown stood out in stark contrast to her olive skin. Her tangled dark curls were as before, loose and completely wild, they formed a dark shadow about her marred face. Her arms were covered by the long sleeves of a silky robe though her hands were bare. She almost looked as she had when she first came upon the clearing.

"Helen?" The Hatter opened the door a wider and glanced out into the corridor. It was empty save for the woman, who was staring at him with a blank look on her marred face. He looked at her, a gentle frown tugging the corners of his lips. "What…? Why are you here?"

Helen shook her head, her dark eyes looking past him toward the large windows of his room. She looked at him and reached out to him, a small hand resting against his pale chest. "Shadows… Little dream… The fire burns…"

He had stiffened at the feel of her warm palm against his bare chest, his electric green eyes studying her beneath the light of the torches. There were shadows beneath her eyes, the haunting look in those dark orbs a telling sign that whatever dark memories that plagued her were running rampant. She moved closer to him and shook her head again, her gaze focused on the sight of her skin looking like a shadow when compared to his pale flesh. "A dream within a dream…" She looked up at him, her other hand reaching up to gently brush across the pale flesh of his cheek. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice growing thick with emotion. "Memories, lost by time…" She shook her head once more and suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry… Sorry… Forgive me… My fault…"

The Hatter had stumbled forward in surprise from the sudden closeness of her, her body pressing itself tightly against his own. He was acutely aware that there was nothing more than bits of fabric between them and he reached up to gently grab her arms. "Forgive you?" He pulled her arms down and her head moved, her dark curls brushing against his neck. Had she always been this tiny? He had not been fully aware of it until now; she barely stood above his shoulder.

She did not say anything but stood on her tip toes, pressing her lips warmly against his neck, right where his pulse beat so strongly. He had not released her arms and he simply stood there, his eyes gently closing at the feel of her lips against his skin. Warmth spread through him, warmth that was so wonderful and so familiar. He had not felt this in so long, this strong pull toward another, not since Alice had gone…

"Please forgive me Tarrant…" Her voice, a soft murmur that was tight with emotion, sent a pleasant shiver across his skin. It took him a moment to realize that she had spoken his name, his true given name. He opened his eyes and pulled back slightly to look at her. Her dark eyes were swimming with tears and the torn look on her marred face sent alarm bells ringing in his head. There was no madness in her eyes now; the clarity was there, the clarity that came so fleetingly to her.

"Helen?" He was unsure of how to speak to her, not when she was like this. She was remembering something, he was sure of it. "Tell me what it is…" He pulled her arms down and shifted his grip, his fingers holding firmly to her shoulders.

She did not respond, she simply watched him with intense sadness on her face. Her hands moved, hesitant at first and then with earnest. The raw flesh of her fingers danced across the pale flesh of his cheeks, under the shadowed smudges of his mad eyes and into his tangled, orange waves. "Forgotten in the shadows… It will be remembered…" She framed his face in her hands and pulled his head down. Her lips touched his, a bittersweet touch that made the Hatter's heart thud hard against chest.

His lips responded, unsure and curious, his hold on her shoulders growing firmer as he pulled her closer against him. It lasted for just the briefest of moments and it was in that moment that he had forgotten the madness, his and hers. He was only aware of how warm her lips were and how right they felt pressed against his own. Something had shifted into place then, an internal click that shocked through the both of them.

Helen was the first to break the kiss and she pulled away from him completely, leaving him staring at her with a stunned expression on his face. His bushy brows came together, his electric eyes studying the pained expression on her face. "Helen?"

She raised a hand to her lips, her fingers dancing just above the skin that had turned pink from their unexpected kiss. "Sorry… so sorry… Please forgive me…" She took one step back and then another. "Nevar more… Little Dream…" She whirled on her heel and ran up the corridor, her slippers barely making a sound on the tile.

The Hatter stared after her as she disappeared around a corner, completely confused as to what had happened. He studied the empty corridor before he turned to look in his room, catching the eye of the raven, who had witnessed the strange encounter. It said nothing to the man, could not even if it tried. It simply shook its head, a look of warning in its dark eyes, before it faded from view in a plume of gray black smoke.

The Hatter stared at the headboard, his frown growing as the confusion settled deeper in him. He had no idea what had happened just then with Helen, had no idea why she was at his door or why she had kept apologizing for something she would not or could not explain. Was there something she was aware of that he was not?

He closed the door, shutting out the light from the corridor and casting his bedroom back in darkness. The strange dreams from these past two nights, the strange familiarity that Helen brought with her since she had arrived… It was all too confusing to try and make sense of. It did not help that he was growing attached as well; his attraction to her was what surprised him the most. She must have felt something too, those strange forces that were drawing her to him despite her madness. It was all tied together, though in a tangled mess that most likely resembled Helen's hair…

There were many questions and no clear answers that he could find or make sense of. It was beyond him at the moment. He sighed heavily and moved away from the door, intent on trying to get some sleep. They were to awaken bright and early for their journey to Queast. However, at the moment, the Hatter felt that sleep would be avoiding him for the rest of the night…


	11. Chapter 11

_(A/n) This chapter was inspired by another rendition of Alice in Wonderland. A 2000 PC game called American McGee's Alice. You all should check it out, it's just wonderful. So beautifully dark and poetic… :)_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 11<strong>_

"…_I was thinking of a plan_

_To dye one's whiskers green,_

_And always use so large a fan_

_That it could not be seen._

_So having no reply to give_

_To what the old man said,_

_I cried, "Come, tell me how you live!"_

_And thumped him on the head. _

_His accents mild took up the tale;_

_He said, "I go my ways,_

_And when I find a mountain-rill,_

_I set it in a blaze;_

_And thence they make a stuff they call_

_Rowland's Macassar Oil-_

_Yet twopence-halfpenny is all_

_They give me for my toil…" _

The morning brought with it a sense of unease. The Hatter was not sure of how things were going to go about. As expected, he had not been able to sleep and so he had found himself remembering the middle of the old song he had sung from before. Those next set of lyrics had been stuck in his head until the sun was well over the horizon. It did not help him to sleep but it did help to refrain from dwelling on the strangeness of Helen. The previous night had been awkward and he was not sure if Helen would even acknowledge the fact of what had happened between them.

_Would she remember?_

The answer to that question was given at the breakfast table. The Hatter, fully dressed in his worn clothes and tattered top hat, had arrived at the dining area. The Queen was all ready seated and Helen, dressed in her dark blue outfit and newly made top hat, sat on the Queen's left hand side. The mad woman was gently running her fingers over and over the dark feathers of the raven that was perched on her arm, her dark eyes staring off into the distance. She was humming to herself her lullaby of _Twinkle, Twinkle_ that the Hatter found that he liked. She didn't notice that he had arrived at the table and the only seat beside her had been taken by Chessur, who was grinning at the Hatter in a knowing way. Ignoring the cat, the Hatter made his way to the other side of the table and sat down across from Helen. She continued to stare off into the distance.

"Tarrant," said the White Queen as she smiled at the Hatter, a kind smile that did not go past the Hatter. She was aware of the tension that was crackling between Helen and him. Whatever had transpired, she was quick to bring their upcoming journey to the forefront of their mind. "You will need to eat a quick breakfast, there is not much time in the day I'm afraid."

The Queen caught the questioning glance the Hatter had thrown her way and she looked at the Cheshire cat, who was lightly sipping a cup of tea. Chessur's luminous eyes studied the inside of his white cup as his tail flicked with growing excitement. "We're to head northeast to the town of Loar on the border of Marmoreal and Queast." He glanced at the Hatter and his grin grew a little wider. "There we'll find the train station where we'll travel by rail to Bayar Malay. It seems an easy enough venture but it will be difficult since it will be a few days' walk to Loar."

"I will be providing you transportation," the Queen remarked, looking at the Hatter and giving a gentle smile. "You should be to Loar by nightfall…" she trailed off, leaving the rest of her thoughts unsaid.

Those shadows would prove difficult if they would decide to attack them. Who knew if they were simply watching Helen or perhaps were hoping to catch her? Whoever those creatures answered to was something the Queen was going to find out. It did not settle well with her that there were strange creatures prowling Underland without her knowledge…

"Shadow's play…" Helen broke in but her voice was but a cracked murmur, her dark eyes seeing something that the others could not. Erom ruffled its feathers at the mention of shadows, its eyes studying the Hatter with curiosity. Helen was more subdued this morning. Perhaps she was quite aware of what had transpired last night. The Hatter could not be so sure though, one could never be so sure with one such as Helen. The Queen noted the thoughtful look on the Hatter's face and quickly glanced at Helen, who was looking particularly haunted this morning. What had happened last night?

"To Loar… Nevar more…" Helen closed her eyes, her fingers ceasing in their movements over the raven's dark feathers. "Little dream… A cord, a string… Must weave a dream and tie the seam with a cord… a string…"

Erom smoothed its feathers and looked at the Queen, its dark eyes studying the ivory features of the monarch. It gave a single nod before fading from view, a telltale sign of gray-black smoke the only trace it left behind. Helen's hand remained in the air for but a moment before it settled down upon the white cloth of the table. The dark glove caressed the fabric and her dark eyes settled on the Hatter. "Must leave… Must weave… The Raven cries for her dreams…"

The Hatter studied the mad woman as her cracked voice wavered down to quiet murmurs. She closed her eyes and reached out to the chair beside her, her fingers finding the Cheshire cat. Chessur let out a surprised purr as her fingers began to scratch behind his ears. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against her hand, enjoying the attention.

The Queen had a light frown on her face, watching the shadowed look that played on Helen's marred face. No one said a word after Helen's eerie rhymes and the Hatter decided it would be a best to eat breakfast rather than allow his worries to further plague him…

Once breakfast was done, the Queen had swept from the dining room to prepare the group for travel. She would provide horses and a carriage for them, the fastest horses in Marmoreal to get them to the town of Loar. The shadow creatures would be following them, of that there was no doubt. Once the group was past the safety of the castle walls, who knew what kind of hell they shadows would unleash on the travelers.

While the Queen was distracted with the preparations, the Cheshire cat had excused himself in his usual fashion by evaporating from sight, his grin lingering above Helen's head before it too disappeared. The Hatter found that he was alone with the mad woman and he found that he was unsure of what was going through her mind. He lightly drummed his bandaged fingers against the table cloth, the muffled thumping doing little to attract Helen's attention. She was humming to herself, her voice wavering as her gloved fingers danced continuously over the table cloth.

The Hatter's drumming ceased and he cast his electric gaze to Helen, a light frown playing on his pale features. "I have a riddle for you." He watched as her black gloves stopped moving and her dark eyes flicked toward him. A light twitch of her lips indicated that she was aware of him and listening. He smiled; a somewhat chilling smile that would have sent chills down a person's spine. There were dark smudges beneath his eyes, from lack of sleep or his uncontrollable temper, it was hard to tell. "When is a croquet mallet like a Billy club?"

The corners of Helen's lips twitched again and she looked away, casting her dark eyes to the ceiling above. "When one wants… Do you want?"

"Want?" The Hatter's smile faded a bit, his eyes growing thoughtful. "Want… Do I want or do I need?"

"To need is to want," Helen replied in answer to his question before rising to her feet. "Round and round the sundial… Snicker snack… Will you forgive me?" she whispered this last part, her dark eyes searching the Hatter's before she turned away from him and left the table.

The Hatter stared after her, his confusion giving way to his own madness as he tried his best to ignore the ache in his own heart. Something had happened. Be it in his dreams or within hers, in his memories or in hers, _something_ had happened…

He got up from the table, placing his bandaged fingers upon the white cloth. He stared at his hands for some time, studying the orange that stained his pale flesh. On the far end of the room, the sound of a clock could be heard ticking, the sound of Time marching on… Strange that Time seemed to be in such a rush this day…

.oOo.

_Tick, tock…_

_Tap, tap…_

_Clip, clop…_

The sounds stayed in time with one another. The sound of the Hatter's golden watch, now ticking the seconds; the sound of the raven tapping its beak against the door of the carriage for some unknown reason; and the sound of the horses' hooves against the cobblestone road that led northeast toward Loar.

Before they had left, the Queen had given the Hatter a letter of introduction to give to Alyiona of Bayar Malay. It bore the crest of the White royal family. She had also given a couple of books, which were wrapped in brown tissue, with strict instructions to keep them hidden. They had been placed in a traveling bag that belonged to Helen, which she had worn at her side. The Queen had wished them luck in their travels, warned against the skirmishes that were happening in Queast, and to be watchful of any signs of the creatures that waited beyond the walls. They were to be escorted by two of the white knights on horse back and a driver that hardly said a word to his charges.

The moment the white carriage had gone past the gates of the castle, Helen had gone as still as a statue. She did not speak or move, she simply stared out the window to the passing scenery. She was seeing something that the Hatter could not see but he could sense something was there. Every moment or so, he would see bushes that swayed or the branches of trees bending as they went along the road. They were being followed by those creatures.

Chessur was sitting beside the Hatter, studying the passing scenery with as much interest as Helen was. His eyes were looking past the sunlight that filtered in through the carriage window, catching the faint silhouettes of the creatures as they followed them. They had not made a move against the travelers, perhaps because of the bright day that it was. Chessur knew that would change the moment the sun went down.

"I used to dream of many things, terrible things of dread…" Helen had begun to sing, though her singing was not the off tune cracking that the Hatter knew. Her voice was a mere mumble, her dark eyes flicking from the raven beside her and back to the window. "Of candles and ravens and blood that was shed…" She closed her eyes and started to shiver, her olive skin taking on a sickly hue. "The fire that burns casts only darkness and yet only Time will shed the light-" She opened her eyes and looked at the Hatter, the haunting look striking a cord in his memory. "Have you considered things that begin with the letter M?"

The Hatter stared at his traveling companion, not surprised by her sudden question though the topic was not what he expected. "I've considered many things that begin with M," he said in reply, his electric eyes flicking to the ebony bird, which continued to tap against the carriage door. "Mind, memory, morning-"

"Moira," Helen interrupted, her eyes taking on the far off look from last night.

"What?" The name seemed to prick at his memory, a name he felt he had heard before. He leaned in close, studying the marred face of the woman as she reached up to pull down the brim of her hat. "Moira?" Why did that name ring a bell? A flash of bright red waves appeared in his mind's eye before it was gone.

_His dreams…_

Helen said nothing else as she curled into the white cushions, almost as if willing herself to disappear. The Hatter would have asked more of her but when he called her name, she did not respond in any way. It was a moment before he realized she had hid within herself, a tactic he had pulled himself many times when things proved too stressing. He sat back against his own seat and sighed heavily, ignoring the knowing look that Erom cast his way.

The hours had passed and the scenery gave way from forests to rolling plains. The sun was soon setting and Helen had not yet awoken from her self induced catatonia. What had proved to be an uneventful journey thus far was replaced by a sudden chill that rose into the air. Their breaths hung in silvery puffs and the temperature began to drop steadily. The Cheshire cat was floating in the middle of the carriage, his luminous green eyes studying the passing scenery. The raven had cocked its head, appearing to be listening to something, before it faded in a plume of gray-black smoke. No one had asked where it had gone and the Hatter did not care at the moment.

As the evening began to grow, the humanoid silhouettes of the creatures began to emerge, their wavering forms darker than the surrounding shadows. Their ice blue eyes brimmed with strange flames as they neared the carriage, their various swords and spears held at the ready. There were four of them, a considerable less amount than what Chessur had originally seen. His fur bristled as Helen opened her eyes and sat forward, her gloved hands braced on the edge of the seat. "No shadows please!"

"Brace yourselves!" the cat cried as he faded from view and a moment later the horses of the carriage reared. The driver tried his best to keep the animals steady but they took off on their own, the carriage dragging behind them. The Hatter was thrown back against his seat from the force while Helen was thrown forward, landing in a less than graceful heap against the Hatter's lap.

He caught her before she could fall completely and pulled her up on the seat beside him, his hands keeping her steady. The sound of clashing armor and weapons reached the Hatter's ears and he looked out the rear window to catch sight of the two white knights battling with the shadow creatures. A horrible scream filled the air and, just as the carriage turned the bend in the road, he saw that a white knight had managed to kill one of the creatures. He had stuck his blade through a crimson red stone that appeared at the center of its chest. So the creatures _could_ be killed…

"Tarrant!"

The Hatter looked over at Helen, the sound of her calling his name catching him completely off guard. She was gripping his arms and looking over at a window, watching as a shadow creature was trying to climb through. Its ice blue eyes were only on Helen, more specifically, her very faint shadow. It was trying to aim its spear at her but could not fit all the way through the tiny window. The Hatter released the mad woman and grabbed one of the long needles that he kept within his top hat. He aimed and threw it straight at the center of the creature's chest. It let loose a horrible scream that sounded like nails scratching against a chalkboard, the long needle having found its mark against the smooth crimson stone that appeared. The needle had broken the stone, the pieces shattering like a broken mirror and falling to the floor of the carriage like frozen blood. The shadow's wavering form stilled for a moment before it too shattered into tiny pieces, the broken pieces fading into dark smoke.

It seemed to be the only one that managed to catch up with the carriage and the horses continued in their panicked race along the road. The Hatter remained on alert though, watching the windows for any signs of the creatures. It wasn't until they had crossed a small stone bridge, and the cobblestone road became hard-packed dirt, that the horses finally slowed. The driver managed to keep them from running off again and he voiced his concern to his passengers, barely getting a reply from the Hatter. The danger was no longer threatening and the town of Loar was drawing closer. They would soon reach the border of Marmoreal and Queast but whether they would be truly safe was a question the Hatter did not wish to think of at the moment.

"Are you both all right?" Chessur had appeared in the seat that Helen had been thrown out of, his tail twitching from side to side in a hurried manner as his luminous eyes flicked from the Hatter to Helen.

A muscle ticked beneath the pale flesh of the Hatter's jaw but he managed a nod. "Fair enough, considering those creatures…" replied the Hatter, his voice reverting to his native growl, his stress levels having risen. He took a moment to calm himself and when he spoke next, his fine speech had returned, lisp and all. "Thank you Chessur."

The cat's grin appeared, rather pleased to hear the Hatter's thanks. Apparently, the Hatter was well aware of cat's involvement in the startling of the horses. Had they not ran as they did those creatures would have done much more damage than they had. He hoped the white knights were all right though…

"They've killed all of the creatures that attacked," said Chessur, noting the concerned look on the Hatter's face. "One is wounded but they are on their way here now. They will need to rest before heading back to the Queen."

"Did you see any more of those creatures?"

"No," the cat replied, his grin fading as he glanced at Helen, who was staring out the window with a haunted look in her dark eyes. She was still holding onto the Hatter, the fear that played on her marred face was very real and very chilling. She was afraid of the creatures for good reason but they had no idea why those shadows were after her in the first place.

"Through the shattered looking glass," whispered Helen, her dark eyes looking out the window to the growing darkness of night. "How does the raven see the shadow that lies beyond the tree?"

The Hatter did not reply to her question, he kept his mad green eyes on the window, having noticed that Erom was flying beside the carriage. It was keeping a close eye on the surrounding area, acting as lookout for the travelers as they made their way to Loar. The silence that fell amongst them was heavy and filled with unasked questions. The sight of passing buildings did little to ease the tension that was building and when the carriage finally stopped in front of a large building that was the inn, the Hatter had no idea whether to be relieved or anxious…

"We'd best go inside and get some rest," said Chessur, not liking the sight of the anxious faces on the mad couple. "I doubt that the rail would be running this time at night and we do need tickets." He flicked his tail and faded from view, his eyes lingering for a moment before they blinked and disappeared.

The Hatter managed to ease Helen's mad grip on his arms and he got to his feet, doubling over to avoid bumping his hat against the ceiling of the carriage. He opened the door and climbed down, turning around to hold out a bandaged hand to Helen. "Come Helen, we must get inside. I do not wish to risk your safety out here."

Helen did not say a word in reply; she quickly got to her feet and reached out to take his hand. She climbed down from the carriage with the fluid grace that rivaled the Queen's, the dark feathers of her top hat swaying with the movement. She stood beside him, looking up at him with worry in her eyes.

"Go on Helen, I'll be in right behind you…" His voice had gone down to a soft growl, his native accent caressing the words in such a way that would make a normal woman swoon.

Helen didn't seem to be phased by the sound of his voice but she continued to stand there stubbornly. It took a moment of continual reassurances before Helen finally gave in. The Hatter closed the door to the carriage and waited until Helen had gone inside the building. He then looked to the driver and bowed his head. "Much gratitude to you, we would have had a much harder time traveling if not for your skills."

The driver only shook his head to the Hatter, his grip tightening on the reins. "The Queen asked to see ya safely and so I had. I'll be honest with ya sir, you'd best be watchin' those creatures. T'aint natural, the likes of them..." He touched the brim of his cap and nodded to the Hatter. "Be safe sir and watch that young lady, there's something 'bout that one. Safe journey to all of ya."

The Hatter bowed his head once more before he watched the carriage pull away, the driver looking keen to find a safe place to bed for the night. The Hatter looked around at the small town, the lights in the windows of the surrounding buildings revealing a sleepy peacefulness that the Hatter could not truly grasp. Unease and confusion at the entire situation at hand ate away at him as he turned on his booted heel and walked toward the door of the inn...


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

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><p>"<em>'Mirror, mirror, what do you see?'<em>

_'Reflections of the sky and land and thee.'_

_'Mirror, mirror, what do you show?'_

_'Reflections of the shadows from which tears flow...'"_

_.oOo._

Early the following morning, and after a quick breakfast at the inn, the Cheshire cat led the way through the town of Loar toward the train station. The station was actually a small wooden building upon a small wooden platform that rested beside open train tracks. There were several travelers waiting for the train; a goat dressed in a finely tailored coat, a man whose clothing looked to be made of white paper, a young lady who carried a bright yellow parasol and a badger who was shifting about nervously on his feet.

Mad Helen was dancing in her usual manner behind the Hatter, she looked as if the terror from the previous night had been completely forgotten. Perhaps it was for the time being, the day was promising to be a bright one. The raven had taken a spot upon the Hatter's right shoulder, its keen eye watching Helen as she sang an eerie new rhyme that sounded similar in tune to _Baa, Baa, Black Sheep._

"Four tickets to Bayar Malay please," said the Hatter to the old man behind the counter of the ticket stand. The old man wore overly large glasses, his eyes resembling that of an insect's. At the sound of the Hatter's voice, the old man glanced up at the new travelers and his eyes large eyes grew even larger.

"Four tickets? Four? Are you sure about that? One of you is heading in the wrong direction. Three tickets would suffice for the lot of you."

The Hatter could only stare at the old man, wondering what on earth he meant by that statement. One of them was heading in the wrong direction? He didn't specify which one was heading in the wrong direction and why it mattered in the amount of tickets they were to receive. The old ticket handler said nothing more to them as he pulled out three tickets and handed them to the Hatter. The Hatter handed several pieces of copper in return and bid the old man good day. The old man studied the group with keen interest as the Hatter made to stand on the platform. He hesitated but called out the Hatter, his large eyes flicking over to the smiling form of Helen, who was now humming as she glided toward the edge of the platform.

"Watch yourself! Once you pass the fourth brook, your direction will take a turn. Keep your guard over her."

The Hatter glanced back at the old man, the confused look on his face growing the moment the ticket handler slammed the shutters to the window shut. His lime green eyes flicked over to Helen, who was bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. She was looking in the opposite direction from where the train was supposed to be coming, an expectant look on her face. The Hatter could not help but feel a bit of dread at the coming journey.

The train had arrived however at precisely eight o'clock and they boarded the train with little fuss. Helen was continuously humming as she kept a firm grip on the back of the Hatter's worn coat. They made their way through the tiny hall, passing compartments that were filled with various passengers that ranged from many different types of animals to your basic humans. They finally found an empty compartment toward the middle of the train and the Hatter ushered Helen through, who was followed by Chessur and the raven.

The moment the Hatter slid the compartment door behind him, he turned around to find Helen sliding the window open. She sat down and placed her elbows on the edge of the open window to stare at the sight of the townspeople going about their business. The Hatter was struck with how quiet she was as she gazed out the window, the black feathers of her top hat stirring lightly in a passing breeze. Chessur had taken the spot beside her, his tail lightly twitching against her thigh. Erom the raven had perched on the luggage rack above them, ruffling its feathers and moving from one foot to another, settling itself down.

The Hatter had taken the seat across from Helen and studied her as the train let out a piercing whistle and began to move. Helen's dark eyes grew wide and a bright smile lit her face as she suddenly leaned out the window and began to wave frantically to the townspeople. "Goodbye!"

He smiled at that and his smile grew the moment she looked at him and beckoned him to the window. "Tarrant, we have to say goodbye! Who knows when we will see them again?" The clarity was in her eyes again but the Hatter could not help but feel as if she were somewhere other than here. The look in her eyes was distant at best, not quite focusing on his pale features. The Hatter didn't say anything to her though, afraid that he would break the beautifully innocent look on her face. Instead, he moved beside her and pulled his top hat off, his mad orange locks catching in the passing wind. He smiled at the woman beside him and reached a hand out the window to wave goodbye to the townspeople of Loar.

The townspeople stared at the mad couple who were crying out goodbye to them as the train began to pick up in momentum. They were crazy, there was no doubt of that, but several of the townspeople waved in return, rather glad that there were _some_ people who remembered when it was proper to say goodbye...

.oOo.

The journey through the land of Queast was quiet at best, there were three times exactly that the train had to jump over the large rivers that separated the land into a checkerboard pattern. Helen had fallen asleep after the last jump and she had curled up on the seat, her precious hat placed safely beside her head. Her mad dark curls were going in every direction and the Hatter felt a sense of deja vu strike him as he studied the woman. She looked so peaceful and innocent. The burnt side of her face was hidden from view and only the smooth olive tone of her undamaged side could be seen. Her lips were parted gently, her breath easing gently past.

A small smile appeared on his lips as he settled back in his seat, his lime green eyes studying Helen as she slept on. He folded his hands within the folds of his worn coat, the gentle motion of the train lulling him into a sense of peace. Soon he too fell asleep, not noticing that his old friend was floating beside the open window, looking out to the horizon. His grin was gone and a look of worry was set upon his feline features. The feeling of unease was growing the closer they got to the fourth brook... He wondered what danger awaited them this time...

.oOo.

_The fire burned, the thick black smoke rising toward the dark sky._

_He slowly made his way to the center of town, his eyes taking in the sight of what was left of the Hightopp Clan's home. _His_ home... _

_His face was stricken with pain, his long and wild red curls resembling the flames around him, tossing in the heated wind that blew. He took one step and then another, his light green eyes moving from the sight of burnt bodies and rubble..._

_His gaze focused on the sight of a lone top hat on the ground. It was his... _

_Slightly charred and parts of it still glowing with embers, he picked it up from the scorched ground and placed it on his head. He could feel the sadness and anger warring within him but he remained slightly calm. He had not seen any signs of his sister nor of _her _amid the destruction. They might have made it out... _

_The pain he had kept so well at bay did not surface until he saw the charred form of a small green top hat on the ground, pink flowers etched upon its visible surface. Several feet away was a similar hat but the shade of it was burgundy. Beside it was a long pink scarf, flowers etched beautifully just above the fringed edges...It was _hers_... Moira's friend had loved that scarf..._

_Moira... _

_What happened to her? _

_He was afraid to search for his sister, afraid to find something he didn't want to see. He was afraid of the fact that his sister was gone... He was afraid _she _might be gone... He had promised her a dance. Though she had been younger than him, he could not push aside the tender feelings that had grown for her. He had been hoping to appeal to her mother to court her when she was of age this year... _

_Now... now..._

"_It's my fault..."_

_He turned in surprise, catching sight of a young girl standing amid the flames. Her arms, her legs, even a part of her face, was raw with fresh burns while her tattered burgundy and purple dress barely hung on her petite frame.. Her long dark curls tossed about her face, the olive skin blemished by the angry redness of her burns._

"_Please forgive me... It's all my fault... If I hadn't come here... If Mother had not wished to escape our fate..."_

"_Helen..." His voice sounded strange to his ears, the name even stranger. This was not her name... _Her_ name was as unique as she was. This was _her_... _His_ little artist... What _was_ her name?_

"_Tarrant, I'm so sorry..." She fell to her knees amid the flames, her dark eyes focusing on the sight of the green top hat with the embroidered pink flowers. "Moira... Have you forgotten her?" She cast her pain filled gaze his way and he felt his heart clench at the sight._

_Memories..._

_Muchness..._

_Moira... _

_His _sister_..._

"_You promised me a dance... Will you keep your promise?"_

_Helen, the girl who he knew now as Helen, pointed toward the scarf that lay on the scorched ground between them. It was hers, that much he remembered. He moved toward the scarf and picked it up. It was one of the few things that seemed to have avoided the flames that had devoured everything else. He held the scarf against his cheek to feel the smooth fabric before reaching up to tie it around his top hat. _

"_I will my sweet artist... I will keep my promise..." He looked at her once more and could only swallow back the tightness of his throat. She was no longer there, nothing more than a figment of what had __been. "I will remember Moira and I will remember _you_..." He closed his eyes against the sight of the flames, knowing that this was nothing more than a memory long forgotten. "I will consider the letter M and hope it brings me back to you..."_

.oOo.

The train had jumped the fourth brook but it did not land back upon the tracks. The compartment rolled, tossing its occupants with it and the world went dark...

_The soft sound of laughter could be heard and then the laughter turned to cries..._

The Hatter opened his eyes and sat up from his sprawled position. Helen was no longer in her seat, her top hat had fallen to the floor. He looked around, catching sight of the raven now perched on the edge of the seat that Helen had abandoned. His heart began to race as the ebony bird fluffed its feathers and flew out the open doorway. He struggled to his feet, reaching down to pick up Helen's hat, when he caught sight of the scene beyond the compartment window. He looked outside to a black and gray world, the sky was heavy with thick clouds that shifted and swirled, their colors ranging from blood red, stormy gray to black as shadows. What in Underland was going on?

"Tarrant, we must hurry!" The Hatter whirled around to catch sight of the Cheshire cat floating behind him, his grin nowhere to be seen. "Helen has run on ahead toward the engine, there was something chasing after her."

"Chess, where are we?" The Hatter did not wait for a response as he hurried out of the compartment and toward the front of the train. He noticed that the other passengers were no where to be seen and the train itself looked as if it had a grown deteriorated. The bright red rug that had been on the hallway floor was now charred in places, the color of it now resembled clotted blood...

"The Looking-Glass world..."

The Hatter paused in mid-step and glanced back at his old friend, his eyes narrowing in confusion. He had heard that before from somewhere... Chessur caught the look on the Hatter's face and floated past him, his luminous green eyes scanning the compartments nearby. "The raven had mentioned it when Helen had been asleep. It had said it had been searching for Helen for years within this place." Chessur glanced back at the man and his ears laid back against his head, true fear showing on his feline face. "We'd best be careful. This place is unlike anything in Underland..."

The Hatter said nothing in response, he simply rushed past the cat and continued on his way toward the front of the train. He ignored the sight of the rotted wood and framework of the train, he ignored the sight of what appeared to be blood streaked across the windows of the rail car. He continued forward in search of Helen, a crying voice in the back of his mind screaming at him that he had to find her.

_Memory... Moira... his sister... The crying voice belonged to Moira..._

Just as he neared the engine of the train, it gave a sudden lurch forward and the Hatter stumbled back before regaining his footing. He moved quickly through the rail cars, sliding door after door as his steps grew into a run. He was vaguely aware of the Cheshire cat following behind him but the sight of a woman standing in a damaged part of the train stopped him in his tracks.

Helen stood on the edge of what was left of the front rail car of the train. It looked as if something had torn the engine of the train completely off. All that was left was a few compartments and the glass to the windows was shattered upon the floor. Helen's tangled curls were blowing every which way in the rising breeze, the train was moving perilously down the tracks with nothing to guide it. How Helen stood at the edge of this, the Hatter could not say, but she kept her stance. She brandished what appeared to be a shovel that had been used to place the coal into the engine of the train. She was using it as a weapon in a fighting stance the Hatter was very familiar with...

"No shadows!" Her voice was ripped away by the fierce wind. Her elbows were tucked back, the shovel moving higher in what was a defensive move if it had been a sword. "You will stay away! I am not afraid!"

The Hatter wondered what it was that she spoke to when the answer made itself known. A creature unlike anything the Hatter had ever seen was floating down in front of Helen. It had no discernible face upon its pale, white and bald head but a large gaping mouth could be seen from which blue flames were visible. It had long arms and long fingers that clenched every so often, looking eager to grab the woman. It wore nothing more than a long black dress with tattered edges, a silver spade visible upon its chest. It let out an unearthly shriek as it floated back and lunged toward Helen.

"Nevar more!" Helen cried out as she dodged the creature's reaching grasp and swung the shovel toward it. The thin side of the shovel had managed to lodge itself into the neck of the creature and it let out an terrible howl. She pulled the shovel out of the creature and backed away a few feet, gripping the shovel closer. "Hatter!"

The Hatter had moved before she had even finished saying his name. He had rushed in front of Helen, pulling her out of harm's way just as the creature raked its long fingered claws across his chest. He gritted his teeth to suppress the pain, an odd strangled sound still slipping past his lips. He kept Helen behind him as the blood oozed from his wounds and stained his shirt. The sound of a heavy metal clunking against the floor caught his hearing and he felt arms wrap firmly around his waist. His hand automatically reached for the hands that were braced against his stomach, the feel of familiar gloves calming the panic he had felt. The creature had backed away, the sight of Chessur appearing and disappearing around it was enough of a distraction for them.

He could feel Helen urging him back, the words that slipped past her lips unlike any rhyme or riddle he had heard so far. "The Night, Nevar more! The weaving of Dream and Night to pass the river's edge! Between the Lion and the Unicorn is where the shadow plays!""

Erom had appeared in haze of gray-black smoke in front of the Hatter then and opened its beak, though no sound emerged. A heartbeat passed and then another, the creature was trying its best to kill the Cheshire cat but it was not quick enough. The grinning cat was toying with it, fading from sight just as the creature was about to get him. While this was going on a black form had appeared from the exposed roof of the rail car and landed between the distracted creature and the injured Hatter and Helen. It wore a thick black cloak that shivered in the wind before it pushed back its hood and revealed itself to be a man. A black helmet covered his face from view and he brandished a sword that was nearly as long as his arm. It's silver blade almost glinted in the hazy, dark gray that surrounded them as he lifted it and struck the creature through the chest.

It let out a hideous cry as the man in black pulled the sword up, slicing the creature from the heart and up through its head. A spray of dark violet blood erupted and the creature twitched in agony as its body slumped to the edge of the rail car only to fall over. The distinct sound of its squished and mangled body parts getting caught in the wheels of the train could be heard and then nothing...

The silence that followed the strange encounter was broken the moment the man pulled off his helmet, revealing a rugged face whose russet tones indicated he was not of Underland descent. His long black hair whipped in the wind as he turned to look at the raven, his dark eyes glinting with a hint of madness of his own.

"Took ye long enough ya blasted pigeon. I've been stuck here for ages! Have ya found the young mistress?"

Erom ruffled its feathers, an offended look appearing on its face. It turned its back to the man and flew toward Helen, who was holding tightly onto the Hatter with a very protective look on her face. The raven settled itself on her shoulder and smoothed its feathers, looking more at peace now that the danger was gone. The man turned his dark eyes to the mad couple, focusing on the Hatter for a moment before flicking to Helen. A strange look swept across his features as he studied the woman, his sword falling with a clatter to the floor.

"My lady... Ye..." He took a step forward but paused as the Hatter pulled Helen's arms closer around his wounded chest, pulling her closer against his back. His usual lime green eyes had now changed to a fierce shade of orange. The shadows that were smudged under his eyes was a clear sign that the Hatter was in his angered state and the man in black recognized this instantly. He flicked his gaze to the woman and he slowly got down on one knee. "My lady... Forgive me but... Ye had grown so..."

"Mirror, Mirror, what do you show?" Helen snuggled against the Hatter, her dark curls appearing to tangle with his own mad, red waves. The Hatter appeared to relax considerably but his eyes retained their orange tint. "The Night that has come to stop Blood's flow..."

He cast his gaze to the raven and a scowl appeared on his russet features. "She is still split apart! How long has she been lost!"

Erom winced at this and shook its head, beating its wings rapidly against itself. The man seemed to keep count of the beats because the man's scowl grew worse. "_That_ many years in the Upperland? Ye _know _how Time is up there! She's been lost for years in this world and now this!" He had gotten to his feet by this time and ignored the bird as he focused his gaze on the Hatter. He studied the man for a moment and grew slightly calm. "She has a piece of her shadow back though. I believe I have ye to thank for protecting her where I could not Master Hightopp."

The Hatter blinked in surprise and looked at the other man, the orange in his eyes fading completely. "How do you know of my name?"

The man studied the Hatter for a few moments before his scowl returned in full force. "Ye have to be pulling me leg..." He studied the Hatter a moment more before he picked up his sword and sheathed it. "He's mad... Completely and utterly mad..." He focused his gaze on the raven and clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. "What happened out there?"

"I think the most pressing matter is how do we get out of here." The Chessur floated down behind Helen, his long tail wrapping around her neck as it liked to do. The man in black studied the cat before casting his gaze to the sight of the broken part of the rail car. The scene was flying past them at an alarming rate, the sight of a large river looming close. The tracks were twisted at an odd angle and broke off where the train was supposed to jump the brook.

The Hatter had no idea what was happening, who this man was, or why it was that he seemed to know the raven and Helen. He only knew that they were in a strange and distorted world on a runaway train that was nearing a large brook at a rapid pace. He swallowed back the panic that was tightening around his throat as Helen gently kissed the side of his neck, her gloved hands slick with his blood. "The Night shall break through the mirror's gaze and Summer will flow through the cracks..."

He had no idea what she was speaking of nor did he care to understand at the moment. He could only focus on the feel of her lips against his skin and of the tingling rush that followed suit. He tried to recall the feeling of his dream, the tender feelings that Helen had awoken in him. She had meant something to his sister and to him... He couldn't grasp it though... Something was blocking the memory...

"I've been waiting for this day."The man in black broke through the Hatter's thoughts and he noticed the man was bracing himself for something.

"Waiting for what day?" he asked as the train continued on its fast pace down the tracks.

The man glanced back at the Hatter and smirked in response, his long dark hair whipping in the wind. "Daylight. Get ready!"

"What-" The Hatter couldn't finish his question because the train had jumped the fifth brook at that moment and rolled. All of the occupants were tossed like rag dolls before they were flung from the damaged rail car and fell headfirst through the surface of the brook...

_The crying turned to singing and soon the laughter began to pick up again..._

_.oOo._

The Hatter had no idea where he was or how he had managed to find himself laying face first in a field of clovers. He groaned as he struggled to pick himself up but winced in the process, the gashes on his chest a sure sign that what he had gone through had been very real. He reached up to find his top hat still set firmly on his head and the long sashes of the pink scarf still tied securely. It wouldn't do to lose either of them...

He moved slowly into a kneeling position, wincing with every movement as he tried to get a look at his surroundings. He was met with the sight of dark and tangled curls as a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He fell back in surprise, the familiar weight of the person who had accosted him easing his surprise. A smile appeared as he wrapped his arms around Helen's waist and pulled her closer, ignoring his own wounds.

She pulled away to look into his eyes and her smile grew, she had acquired her hat again. It must have dropped somewhere close for her to have found it and it was set firmly upon her mad dark curls where it belonged. Her fingers were brushing away the mad waves of his orange locks and tucking them behind his ear. "I really need a codfish now! The truth is crowding my thoughts I just have to write it down!"

The Hatter laughed, his heart swelling with happiness at the madness of Helen, a madness he was quickly realizing he longed to be his own. He ignored those tender feelings for now, his bandaged fingers quickly caressing the damaged flesh of her cheek. Her eyes had fluttered closed at the feel of his fingers and he could feel her relaxing against him. "I don't have a codfish..." His voice was nothing more than a husky burr and he could feel Helen trembling. A pleased smile danced across his pale features. "I could lend you my lips... They will help to speak the truth crowding that beautiful head of yours..."

A soft sigh had slipped past Helen's lips and the Hatter pulled her face down to his, his lips brushing softly against hers. The attraction from before ignited at the feel of her flesh and he quickly pressed his lips back against hers, his hearing catching the sound of her soft moan. His madness was forgotten quickly by this sound and her own seemed to have disappeared just for the sake of feeling their kiss... It was heaven...

_My little artist..._

The thought had surfaced without hesitation from his memory and he focused on it, trying to tie the memory of his dream with what he felt now. However, the feel of Helen's warm lips was ripped from his grasp and his eyes snapped open, his temper rising quickly. He found a bewildered looking Helen in the arms of the man in black, whose dark eyes were shooting daggers at the Hatter. The Hatter struggled to his feet, his movements rather stiff thanks to the bloody gashes on his chest.

"Master Hightopp, I would appreciate if ye would refrain from giving into whatever lust that ye feel for my lady." He pulled Helen behind him then, his broad frame hiding the woman from view.

_His lady?_

The anger was back quick as the Hatter took a step forward, a challenging look appearing in his mad eyes. "_Your _lady? I do believe you presume too much sir. She does not know you." The guttural growl of his native burr set the man in black in a defensive stance, his hand reaching down for his sword while his other kept Helen behind him.

"My lady may not remember me but I will be damned before I allow the likes of a madman like ye to take advantage of her."

"_I would never!"_ The Hatter took another step forward, wishing fervently that he had his own blade with him. He would bring this man down for even _dare_ thinking that he would harm his Helen in any way...

"Enough Gared," a husky voice called over the field of clovers and both men turned to see a woman dressed in a simple yellow gown gliding her way toward them. Her long golden curls were pulled back into a bun at the base of her neck though a few still sprung loose to dance about her heart shaped face. Her creamy skin was flushed from the noonday sun as she made her way to them. The man in black was quick to release his hold on his sword, his entire focus on the lady in yellow that had glided to a stop before them. On her shoulder, Erom the raven was looking as cool as a cucumber while the Cheshire cat floated behind her, grinning from ear to ear, his luminous eyes on the Hatter.

The lady smiled at the man in black and reached out to place a calming hand against his cheek. "Gared, please release dear Helen. She wants very much to be near her protector." The man in black, whose name appeared to be Gared, blinked in response to the lady's request before he glanced back at his mistress.

Helen's dark eyes were indeed focused on that of the Hatter, the yearning on her olive toned face made no mistake that she was eager to be free. She had not struggled against the man, she seemed to trust him, but it was quite obvious she felt more at ease with her Hatter. With a reluctant sigh, Gared released his hold on Helen, who quickly skirted around the man's broad frame and rushed to the Hatter.

The moment her arms had wrapped around his waist the Hatter had returned the embrace, his pale fingers winding themselves in her tangled dark curls. He ignored the stinging pain that erupted from the contact of her against his wounds. This was where she was most safe and he intended to make sure she would remain where she wanted to be most. To hell with any injuries he had, the pleasure of feeling her in his arms was worth it...

"Goodness that is a sweet sight," said the lady in yellow, her dark eyes sparkling at the sight of the mad couple embracing. The Hatter cast his electric gaze to the lady, all hint of his temper gone from his pale face but the suspicion still lingered.

The lady saw the question in the Hatter's eyes and a bright smile touched her creamy features. She gave a graceful curtsy, the hint of cleavage that could be seen quickly catching Gared's focus. The amused look Chessur's face was enough, the man in black appeared to have a soft spot for the lady in yellow...

The lady rose from her curtsy, a sly smile on her pink lips as she placed a graceful hand upon her chest. She seemed to very much aware of Gared's focus on her but she did not acknowledge it. She kept her gaze on the mad couple before her, her golden curls stirring in the rising breeze. "I do believe you have had quite a bit of a journey on the way to meet me. I do apologize for that." She took a step closer, her eyes focused on the Hatter's very intense gaze. "I am Alyiona of Queast... It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Tarrant of the Hightopp clan."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

* * *

><p><em>'In our endeavors to recall to memory of something long forgotten, we often find ourselves upon the very verge of remembrance, without being able, in the end, to remember.' -Ligeia, Edgar Allen Poe<em>

_._

The home of the Yellow Queen was a large cottage that stood on the edges of a large farm. The walls of the home were covered in thick green ivy and the thatched roof looked sturdy. Alyiona of Queast glided along toward her home, the small group of travelers following behind her. Gared, the man in black who had emerged from the Looking-Glass world, was right behind her. Chessur kept to his usual place on Mad Helen's shoulder, his tail curled around her neck, while she walked beside the Hatter. The last of the group was the raven, who kept its place upon the shoulder of the Yellow Queen.

Once inside the cottage, they found themselves in a very homey sitting room done in various shades of yellows, golds and browns. "Make yourselves comfortable," said Alyiona as she glided her way across room, her yellow skirts swaying with each movement, toward the back where the kitchen resided.

Helen did not hesitate to move to a rather cushy looking loveseat, dragging the Hatter behind her. He didn't put up a fight as she sat down and pulled him down beside her. He smiled slightly as she hugged his arm as she had since they found themselves in the clover field. She was humming a gentle lullaby, a soft tune that reminded the Hatter of home...

_Home_...

Helen was tied to him in a way he was not sure of. He knew that she had, at some point in life, been a part of his past. The memories of his sister were ones that had remained buried for so many years. To remember her after all this time, at the presence of this mad woman who called herself Helen. It was no mere coincidence. So many questions swirled around her, what few that were answered many more sprung up in their place... Still, he could not regret the fact that she had glided her way into his life so easily. It was as if she was meant to be here, be beside him...

The Hatter heard a sharp intake of breath and he glanced down to find Helen's gentle fingers moving ever so softly across the wounds of his chest. He had forgotten about his injuries the moment she was safe within his arms out in the clover field. Now that they were no longer in danger, the stinging pain was making itself known once again. He winced but couldn't help the small smile that played on his lips as Helen looked up at him. "Hatter, you're hurt..."

He reached out to brush the mad, dark curls from her left cheek, the sight of her marred flesh plain to see. "'Tis a scratch. Nothing for you to worry over," he said in his native brogue, taking her gloved hands away from his gashes and bringing them to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss upon each hand, not missing the slight cough that had emerged from the rather stoic form of Gared. The Hatter glanced at the other man, who remained standing by the front door, taking in the impassive look on his rugged, russet features. The dark eyes that watched him were showing a warning, his large arms folded across his broad chest.

"Enough of that, Gared. Leave them be. They've been without one another long enough, let them have their time."

Everyone glanced over to catch Alyiona gliding her way back into the sitting room with a tray filled with a fresh pot of tea. A young female rabbit was hopping along after her, dressed in a finely tailored golden vest. She was a earthy brown in color and her loppy ears bounced with each hop. A single yellow bow that wrapped around her left ear gave any indication of her gender to those who could not tell. She was carrying a tray of bandages and healing balms, her movements well practiced.

"Now, everyone please relax with a nice spot of tea while I take care of Master Hightopp. I must say that creature gave you a bit of graze there."

Alyiona moved to set the tray with the tea pot and cups down on the coffee table while her assistant placed the tray of bandages on the end stand beside the Hatter. Helen remained sitting beside the Hatter, her dark eyes watching the Yellow Queen in curiosity as the other woman began to attend to the Hatter's wounded chest. The Hatter said nothing in protest, having recognized the tools of the healing trade from the White Queen's own hospital wing at the castle. Silence fell in the room while the rabbit moved about, serving cups of tea to those who could hold it. The gentle clinking of tea cups against trays broke the silence while Alyiona worked.

"How did you know of where we were?" Chessur was, as always, the first to get to the point. He was floating not too far from Helen. He seemed to be taken with staying near Helen since their trek through the Looking-Glass world. He had carefully set his cup aside, his tail flicking gently to play with Helen's mad curls. Alyiona had finished bandaging the Hatter's wounds by this time and she placed the leftover bandages and balm back on the tray for the rabbit to take. She thanked the rabbit, who gave a quick nod of her head as she left the room. The Yellow Queen sighed softly before moving to sit in the lone armchair.

"I've been watching since Helen had first reappeared," said Alyiona in reply, her dark eyes focusing on the Cheshire cat before they flicked over to Mad Helen. The woman in question had her arms securely wrapped around the Hatter's arm, who had placed a hand upon her thigh without realizing. She had her eyes closed as she murmured softly to herself, her top hat sitting at an angle on her dark, curly hair. The smile came to Alyiona's as she noted how close the couple was, despite their madness they still felt that attraction to one another.

"Reappeared?" The Hatter watched as the Yellow Queen sat, peacefully enduring the questioning gazes from the Hatter and the Cheshire Cat. "She has been here before but why has the Oraculum not foretold of her? It had for Alice and she was of the Upperland..."

"We are not allowed to speak of her bloodline, we are not allowed to even remember. Those who do recall will quickly find themselves under the same curse as the rest of us." She glanced at the raven then, who had moved to sit quietly on the shoulder of Gared since they had entered the large cottage. Gared himself was looking particularly menacing, as if the mention of the curse was the bane of his existence. Alyiona quickly focused her gaze upon the Hatter before she pushed herself up from the armchair. "Come with me, I will show you some of what I cannot speak."

The Hatter did not move until Helen had, the mad woman moving gracefully to her feet before looking back at him. She reached out a hand to him, her dark eyes pleading. "Hatter, what lies beyond the shadows of the mountains? We are all near our Witzend..."

He took her hand, listening carefully as he got to his feet and followed the rest of the group out of the sitting room.

_Witzend_...

The wild hills of his home territory. The suffering had started there in his hometown... On that terrible, bloody day... Could she know of it? What mysteries could the Yellow Queen unravel that was Mad Helen? He was somewhat afraid of the answers...

.oOo.

The Yellow Queen led them through the kitchen of the large cottage, around where the lady lop-eared rabbit was working on dinner, and to another door. She opened the door outwards, it was a flight of narrow stairs that curled up and out of sight. She led the way to the upper floor of her cottage, not looking back to see if they were following. Helen followed behind Alyiona, her gloved hands holding on tightly to that of the Hatter's. Chess was lingering behind him, floating closely as if he were too eager in his curiosity. The Hatter was quite aware that Gared and the raven had remained downstairs, as if they knew that their presence was not required for this particular venture.

The staircase stopped in front of another door, which opened inward. Alyiona led the way, her golden curls trying to break free of her bun. Her usual creamy skin had lost its rosiness by this time and her dark eyes were focused on a large full length mirror that rested in the corner of a small room they had entered. This room was done up in tones of gold and yellows as the rest of the house but the mirror did not with the rest of the décor. It was like the White Queen's, nearly identical even, save that the numbers were like that of a normal clock face along the edge. The numbers were glowing in a gentle golden light and the mirror itself was just normal reflective glass, at the moment at least.

At the sight of it, Helen let out a gentle whimper and turned her face away, hiding it in the cloth of Hatter's worn coat. He quickly reached his free hand down to place over one of Helen's gloved ones, knowing her fear of mirrors. After experiencing the Looking-Glass world for himself, he understood well enough why she was afraid of them. He kept her as close beside her as she would allow, whispering soothing words against her top hat. Chessur's grin was not as wide as it should be, he was staring at the mirror. The Yellow Queen was in front of it and she was lightly touching the numbers at various places.

"I was to rule over this land of Queast, these lands have always been peaceful... Until the day that darkness descended upon the entire family-" She winced at this, her words cutting off as if she had been in pain. She eased out a gentle breath and turned around to face the Hatter and the Cheshire cat. "I saw the look in your eyes the moment I introduced myself Master Hightopp. I could see the anger that was buried so deep. You have wondered how I could sit so idly by while my cousin Iracabeth, that lovely bloody queen, had usurped the throne. It was not easy. You forget that my own land was in civil war, a war I could not end because I did not have the power to do so." She closed her eyes and took in another breath, the memories of that long ago day, so long before the _Horunvendush Day_. "There is a darkness in our lands that did not begin, and had not ended, with the Red Queen. It had happened long before myself, or my cousins, were even born. The day the Royal Families were broken asund-" She gasped at this and held a hand to her chest, a sad smile touching her lips. "I cannot even speak of it. Such a trivial thing really..."

"_Jack be nimble, Jack be quick..."_

Helen's broken voice had began on one of her many rhymes, her dark eyes taking on a very haunted look. Alyiona noticed this and she gave a single nod. "Helen always speaks the truth. She is the one who had been split since this curse had been cast upon us all." She sighed softly, her dark eyes studying the mad woman with something akin to affection. "Yet because of this she is able to speak of what we cannot. Always heed the broken words that flow from her mouth."

"I do not understand. What does your renouncing your throne, the Red Queen's bloody reign... Helen..." Chessur glanced at the mad woman, his luminous green eyes growing sad. "What does this have anything to do with who our Mad Helen is?"

Alyiona's heart-shaped face grew terribly sad as she turned back toward the mirror, holding out her hand toward the couple. "Everything my dear Cheshire cat. Everything..." She glanced at Helen and Hatter, beckoning them closer. "You will see what is allowed to be seen. Your broken memories that had been cast away on that terrible _Horunvendush Day_."

Helen was trembling by this time, her fear of mirrors rising high within her chest. Even with the Hatter beside her, the tears fell down her olive cheeks. The couple walked forward, the Hatter leading the way as he gave support to the broken woman beside him. Without a word, they reached out to the mirror, their fingers gently interlacing... A flash of light, glowing numbers of a clock face burning bright against their lids... then...

.oOo.

A field of flowers were the first sight to greet his electric eyes. The high hills of Witzend rolled off in the distance and he couldn't keep the smile from his face. He was home...

"Tarrant!" A girl's voice cried across the field for him and he turned, catching sight of a familiar hair of bright red waves. Her electric green eyes matched his own, the skirt of her green dress, embroidered with pink flowers and vines, flowing about her feet.

"Moira," said the teenage Tarrant as he reached down to sweep the young girl off of her feet and through the air. She squealed with delight and begged to be put down. He laughed at his little sister, his love for her flowing over in his heart. He placed her down back to her feet and he listened as she chatted on about a new friend she had made. Her new friend had been right behind her and she would be here soon. He had to promise not to tease her!

Tarrant laughed and promised, knowing that he would do all he could to embarrass his little sister in front of her new friend. Moira had turned then, her green eyes growing alight with excitement. She cried out her friend's name, waving frantically as another girl, slightly older than Moira, made her way up the hill. She was slightly out of breath and she wore a dress of dark blue that resembled the night sky. Her hair was a mad array of dark curls that looked as if someone had tried, and failed, to tame them. Her dark eyes were sparkling with laughter as she made her way to them.

"Moira, why didn't you wait for me? You know I can't run as fast as you can." Her accent was unlike anything he had ever heard before. She didn't seem to be a native of any of the provinces of Underland. She had come to a stop beside his sister, a slight pink tinge visible beneath the olive tone of her cheeks. "Next time, I get a head start ok?"

"Of course! I'll still beat you of though," said Moira, her giggling causing the older girl to laugh as well. "You made it though so you get to meet my brother, Tarrant." Moira turned to her older brother then, the infamous little green top hat sitting on her head. "Brother, this is my new friend. She just came to town with her mother at the request of the White Queen. Her name is Eronel."

Tarrant felt as if his world had been tossed upside down and inside out, the adult in him recognizing the large smile that greeted him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Tarrant," said a young Helen as she grasped the hems of her skirt and curtsied in a very graceful manner. Her dark eyes were focused on his lime green ones, her olive face smooth and full of life and clarity.

"Likewise Lady Eronel," said the teenage Tarrant in reply, sweeping his top hat off of his head and bowing in response. Within him, the adult Tarrant reeled with the revelation. Helen's true name was Eronel... He had always known her...

Always...

_His little artist..._

_.oOo._

_Who was he to say_

_What direction was my way?_

_Through the shattered pieces_

_Of the Looking Glass world_

_I go forward to time past..._

_And he would say I would not last?_

_And they thought me crazy... ~Eronel and the man named Jack_


End file.
